Homer’s Butoh-fu Prologue
I am the story itself Exhausted flesh Hung on this walking wandering bone I recite now not To you in the presence of my voice The fourth wall is there Just behind you the generations just beyond you yet to be The true audience watches us gather For the story of this flesh Blind to its fate Blind to its origin Yet the grape seeks to know its vine As the vine seeks to know its wine Flesh most divine…