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A poem sequence in personal form.

The Shower Scene From Psycho

We had not yet remembered all that would follow.

the bed in Brentwood

the motorcade in Dallas

Sunday in Selma

the balcony of the Lorraine Motel in Memphis

the ballroom at The Ambassador Hotel in Los Angeles

the campus at Kent State

We were holed up in black and white at the Bates Motel.

The future was still a shadow on the curtain.


The Death of Bambi's Mother

We can't say we weren't looking.

What went wrong went wrong right before our eyes.

We were there.

We were watching.

We were having fun.

That's why we were there.

That's why we were watching.

That's what went wrong.



Star Crossed

for Rose Joan Blondell (1906-1979)

Ah, Joanie!

If only I could time-step

we could do

that old soft shoe

just me and you

swapping wisecracks on the breaks

in black & white

directed by Ray Enright

for Warner Bros. in 1935

and we could happily ever after be

cheek to cheek and beaming

in a heart-shaped iris out

that pops open at infinity

on the old shield in the clouds…


In the Grove of Apollo

I'm going to tell you something, lad, and mind you listen.

There was more character and more heart in George Formby singing "Bless 'Em All"
than in anything the world has heard in the last fifty years.

What's that you say?
Never heard of him?

Never heard him?

More's the pity, lad.

More's the pity.

And the BBC banned him.

Bloody hell.



All those Method actors from the '50s

who took their craft

and themselves

so seriously

are turning over in their graves today.

Today's performing seals clap their fins and bark

and all smiles around the seal pool

the crowd applauds.

Who needs truth anyway anymore

When we have buckets of dead fish to spare?


"the old shield in the clouds"
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