There are no longer "dancers",
the possessed.
The cleavage of men into actor
and spectators
is the central fact of our time.
We are obsessed with heroes
who live for us and whom we punish.
If all the radios and televisions
were deprived of their sources of power,
all books and paintings burned tomorrow,
all shows and cinemas closed,
all the arts of vicarious existence...

We are content with the "given"
in sensation's quest.
We have been metamorphosised from
a mad body dancing on hillsides to a pair
of eyes staring in the dark