in memoriam

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Be blind, be careless, but love and know when
to stop, to breathe, to listen
and in listening learn the grace of your tongue,
re-learn the care of listening to yourself.
hum. hum. hum. hear the intimate resonance, inside your heads.

oh my, the clock teases, telling me what is relative to how awake or asleep I am...

Be blind, be deaf to alarms and sirens,
no needed for binding to the mast,
you are a strident gull, thwarted but enlivened in the gale,
close those eyes and kiss the silence of your room in black
in ultra-white, the colorless gleam through the air.
hide. hide. hide. see the intimate shades through your eyelids.

Sighting

Wrenched time out of mind,
And onto the pleading lips.
Pleading to history and time for a reasonable
Punishment.
Bracing his circumstance, he finds comfort in lack of comfort.
He secures his security in insecurity.

Placing his standard in the filtering sand,
Holding fast to his colors, bracing against raging silk string,
As his face and hair blur
into the trailing wake of his future, his dying friends,
His lost cloud of love and knowledge,
his neighborhood of warmth and
aroma.

His trainéd mind and imprisoned hands, fumble
for the lever, the simple machine,
the illumination of some kind of life.

And the swell of shadow over expectation,
The acknowledged need
to slowly spill,
To pass on the love that dwelt so well,
So dear, some rich and dense desire,
The heart brimming full
as an unused well. Ink to set the spell
of stories, dark and wonderful.

-Man, yet to be out of time.

Theatre Happenings

Arthur Miller's All My Sons. Direction: Graham Northrup.

If you have any questions concerning the design, please let me know, so that I can refer your interests to the proper responder, as I had nothing to do with it.

Thanksgiving Day

This year, I am home again.














familiarity is wild to rediscover.