
Painting by Sir Anthony Hopkins
stretched between maybes
tremble tissues of batwings
extended suspended from
overhead recesses dark and
theatrically cavernous damp
taut and fraught with the
flopsweat of uncertain endings
anxiety shudders with cold
possibilities membranes
divide when from then hanging
curtains of skin in proscenium
attitude blinding the actor
to obvious outcomes no sense
of the audience all of his choices
of speech caught on tenterhooks
black iron forgings catch drop
of the drapes veined in turn
with their coursings of pulsing
soliloquy colloquy obloquy
no loss for words among thespian
creatures the trick is to draw
down the right form of rhetoric
this is no time for embarrassing
truths from some too-honest
leadership life and blood loyalties
hang in stark balance and
consequence augurs for quick
stepping out to the footlights
performing whatever deceits
keep concealed the real nature
of sharp-toothed insectivores
From my book Ephemera
Oooh that is sharp!
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those little hooks can be nasty…
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INdeed.
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I’ve really appreciated reading your stuff these months
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and I appreciate your readership – more than I can say
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This one in one breath says a lot. I need to ponder it. It’s like a snapshot of a moment filled with metaphor, so it’s all about presence. There’s a lot to see in one glance.
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I dearly appreciate your most thoughtful reaction
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I love the way the meter and rhyme cascade down the page speaking a piercing truth.
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thanks dearly
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