Freedom of AssociationChapter 3
For his first poem Claude Carolina rhymed about injustice and revolution. The hot white spotlight blazed over him like an indefatigable fire. From his position on the stage he couldn’t see his audience, only their sloping shadows like peaks and valleys against the backdrop of a pitch-black sky. He heard their movement, their restlessness, like soldiers in camouflage maneuvering in the darkness. He commanded them. He knew when they would laugh, when they would clap, and when they would sigh....