(From Edison's proposal for the kinetoscope)
We see May & hear it perfectly as if
whole illusions presented actual
performances. A complete opera
years before a place may have taken it.
I'm working on this new eye.
Just as my ears record your voice
from the phonographic motion⎯
how you move my love, moves me.
I'm experiencing difficulties interpreting—
must find a name for this device.
Content's origins remain unclear⎯
non-existent frame by frame as proposed.
I had a man sing the other day. I
photographed the singing as he was him.
Then I gave a long concert with stills
to arrest all his motions and gesticulations.
He sang himself through all his ranges,
but instead I heard your voice fading away.
Unfocused, the eye laments for the circle
to capture the movement—not to exceed it.
You're always image detached from frame
years before a place may have taken it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem