The sounds linoleum makes / And Franco Hartmann’s aspiration

Who really knows the truth about one’s earliest memory

as it might be wrong / As it might simply be the first thing one cares

to think of as the earliest memory / But there’s little doubt that another

could be lurking in the twilight zone of one’s deepest imagination / Could be

that isn’t true either, although maybe it is.

 

The aspirations of man are more clearly defined as far as I’m concerned / 

If one was born into a working class family let’s say in the early 1940s

the title of this poem is what you might be searching for when it comes to

one’s earliest memory, and if one’s a guy, the answer to the question concerning

your aspirations might well be there, too.

The question is:

What’s been sprung from Meredith Monk’s / “ATLAS” / an opera in three parts?

Acknowledgments:

This poem is made possible by a grant provided by:

The Luigi P. and Carmella T. Nasone "Foundation for advanced Proboscis Research"

AND.. from contributions from readers like you.