An Adler typewriter centre on a desk –
in a remote mountain resort [actually
Elstree – London ] – tricks by chippies
& gaffers – a fake Apollo landing too?
Eagles & minotaurs vex up on walls/
Locations by a second film crew/ Off
white to grey to haemorrhaged hues –
to a scene of clues – or red herrings –
or subliminal lies – no commentaries –
no sense by floors or corridor routes –
just a tracking shot following a small
child on his trike – pedalled & steered
as if another level of plots – carpets &
wall coverings set to confuse with all
eyes on another viewing/ Metaphors –
intents – a room examined every time
by film buffs & message seekers/ RIP
Stanley Kubrick – dead but still reeling
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