The cutter sits alone in the darkened room
her sharp eyes reflecting flickering images
that stop move again stop rewind
to identical moments from alternate angles
choosing perspective choosing focus
finding the rhythm of word and gesture
altering sequence to bring order and meaning
to fragmented moments from fragmentary lives
The stories have no beginnings no ends
only incoherent middles until
the cutter marks the cutter cuts the cutter
strings it in order all together
the walking shadow puppet players
speaking lines that signify
nothing is finished nothing is real nothing
makes sense until the cutter cuts
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