Symposium       Daniel   Love is when the self Platonic              and a certain French philosopher elope              from themselves  hand in hand   Skepticism is the key and lock, you said importantly                                                     wine-flushed panel of                                                   panelists looking on                                                   your girlfriend in the balance                                                   hanging   Love is when the self dies         in the other         world     Tobias   it’s hard I can tell from the lion face, its agonies and self- lashing words from the darkroom   You’re always there, no key or lock because a door is no way out you said   The agony hurts & reminds us all of the lion in the darkroom dying in his sleep     John   1. My mother’s a bitch   two cigarettes themselves                         lighting up a cosmos                         two matches No, look at my new Zippo almost struck   Help me someone I’m half-drunk There are six doors in life I can only remember three                                                 (I’m half drunk)   Quickly Someone The Hindus or something A long time ago They gave us the keys A long time ago                                                                                     Imagine                                                 the self a match                                                 and a darkroom                                                 almost                                                 lighting up a cosmos   2. the seeds.     the seeds.   My father was a constant gardener   In Tokyo no one gardens                                           it slipped out Your essay on seeds and the secret flowering of Self has Tokyo buzzing in your garden                                       one door                                     myself, one door                                     at one time and at another                                     a darkroom                                                             matchless   Go to Tokyo, John it’s the only way out of this. this dim room     Müsicamp   a cigarette is only a prosthetic you said, a sick limb of technology’s                           logic of domination   your words fall thud on deafened ears, barracked selves                         In the Symposium             everyone has almost forgot             about your commune up North             idea, there was an idea   and a door.             and a lock.   your words are locked incontrovertibly locked                                                              outside     Lisa   1. John Cage       John Cage      John Cage                                     a performance is one way out                                     Wine-inspired idea                                     almost ancient                                     Greek   Catharsis withheld.   the performance is a performance John Cage     John Cage   2. put the bicycle out on the porch and the shock no one’s waiting for will arrive as scheduled                                                             punchline after                         punchline                                                                         that’s the way of the self                                                             matchless                                                             in his sleep   3. Wine and time and a door opens                              a window maybe   finally you fall off the bicycle and on my lap the shock is not a performance                                                 finally Wine-inspired the bicycle                                                 pedals all by itself     Meaghan (Daniel’s girlfriend)   embarrassed by her opening words Meaghan, Daniel’s girlfriend, drowns              for a whole minute  underwater    we listened embarrassed by her opening words   homeless people have dignity because we don’t and can’t even give or take anything with dignity ourselves                                                 Blankets                         the image of                         them                         refusing blankets                         lights up the room                         for a whole minute     Aleisha   Aleisha your name is ancient music classical syllables singing  simply  themselves   your name is one door   truly Aleisha   it’s grand time we grabbed hold you said, of our roots the tradition, you said, the books the storage of ten thousand years                                                             it’s time we lit up the garden and watched           Aleisha     India   thank you India thank you really             for all the lost keys we have retrieved time-honored truths we have eaten at the table truly   thank you India thank you really             for being the one way out out in the open air   seabound the self comes to you hungry           for seeds and a garden   Aleisha went to India John went to India Daniel went to India Lisa went to India   hungry the self comes back to you India     Encore   the macaroni is getting stale   upstairs one old man is left awake, a bowl of wine lost, or half-there   they have all died in their sleep except for one old man and his wine the room is deathly sleepy   he looks out at the moon it is lost   alone with his bowl he drinks the last of the wine       - Ahmed Saad