Thursday, December 21, 2023
And embrace the night
That on the other side the light
Of the sun might rise
For now let the spirits ride
And mischief let the twilight hide
For longer days
Of the sun's full height
Will once again hem in the night.
When magic turns to summer's dreams
And leaves behind winter's schemes
And nature trades her evergreens
For fireflies and nodding stems
Her snowy mantle for flowered hems
Then I will feed the daylight's pride.
Under sacred dark
Tuesday, December 12, 2023
Between the black and bright
Twist blue and purple ribbons
Stringing constellations like kites
Lifting diamonds free of coal bins
Warped to weave a tapestry
To write dreams upon the cosmos
With naive artistry
To fasten tight remembering
On the fabric of the night
So though we fear the darkness
We let land slip from our sight
Sunday, October 01, 2023
Salem on October 1st
Here we sit
On the cusp of chaos.
The wind is lost
Sighing summer and singing fall,
Yet the people
In their numbers
Gather as if we all
Are here for their entertaiment,
Not just witnesses to it all.
The spiced and spooky
Of eager minds,
Missing the point
Of a history,
Deeper than judgement
Than the Judas witness call.
Tuesday, August 24, 2021
May I Return?
May I return one day?
Bent and old
To sweep the floors
Of the hallowed hall
And the sacred spaces of making
Redolent of sawdust and paint,
Makeup and sweat,
May I hand out programs
And strugglingly direct supplicants and hedonists
to lettered and numbered perches,
Pilgrim's pews or thrones?
May I return?
With middle class purses held up in offering?
Or offering the currency of time
No longer spent toiling for wages?
To give the slippery hours remaining
To the cause of the muses
Step out onto those storied boards
And read a litany of largess
Or an admonishment of flash photography?
May I return?
One last time?
To feel my swelling heart expand
As if to fill the cathedral of dreams,
Thrumming once more
With the all-consuming magic
that is Theatre?
Friday, February 26, 2021
...in which a gay Gen X-er mansplains his gender journey
I have never spoken about this publicly, but beginning at the age of 17 and lingering into my early twenties I questioned my gender identity. We had fewer options back then, even the transgender narrative was binary, and eventually I realized I was (a little to my chagrin) hopelessly cisgender male. I am a fixer and a mansplainer and I try to be better every day. Mostly I fail.
When I was a freshman in college I wrote a poem about my fantasy alter-ego, the one who had helped me survive being a less than macho art-fag in a an early 80s small town blue collar high school. In love with boys I didn't realize I was in love with, crushing on girls who made me feel comfortable and safe.
My Name Is Rachel
Friday, February 05, 2021
(translated from the original Elvish)
Some say we are spun from starlight,
That is how they show us the way.
Where men stumble in shadow
We dance as if welcoming the day.
But, not all darkness is nightfall.
Not all brightenings invitations to foray.
Beware the deepest of places
Where your eyes may seem to be open,
But the stars have forsaken the way.
Friday, January 29, 2021
So I was called upon to comment on something...
Look, Facebook is a place where people connect, where they reconnect. People who have known each other since... I don't know... the eighties for example. And it was thus that on FB I was called upon to "narrate" a thing. What I put before you is my text inclusive of a link to the context. Please note that no disrespect to the undead nor to persons missing digits is intended, this is merely satire created at the behest of a friend of longstanding. And it's a pandemic, folks, people need to be heeded.
"Gilt stilts, waffletated body bags, and vampire-sized tea-cozies hand-wrought at a summer camp for the thumbless were only the beginning of what was to come as Valentino's parade of disaffected post post-apocalyptic refugees slunk down the catwalk debuting this "Eyes Wide Shut/Ass Wide Open" collection."