Recalling Orson Welles
When you brought the ceiling
into the picture —
prison and precision —
what it revealed
was that the space
silently clothing us
was not infinite
but it contained
both the place and persons
in the case:
under the vague
ceiling of the years
you went on talking
with all the brio
of the twenty-five-year-old
and the tales you told
on the screen
lost their conviction
and the meaning
you had gathered once
into those interiors
sealed and solidified
by the fifth wall
overhead which said:
here you are what you are.
Charles Tomlinson, Cracks in the Universe (Manchester: Carcanet, 2006), 17.
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