Sunday, January 06, 2019
Portrait of the Artist
A Beat, Hippie, etc,
Whatever, spoke
the Languages.
At home with all
the vacancy
always!
Whole Smear!
Talent? None
discernible!
Unless Time’s one.
That’s what
he calls himself,
his fear-
less shtick
being timeless!
Labels: art, art style, Beatnik, hippie, imitation, role playing, time
Saturday, March 24, 2018
Finding
At the newer weather service,
she was never on live anymore.
Way it worked out, nothing
to do with her appearance,
which remained chipper
and pert.
She joked with her husband,
who got more and more face
time due to his great-fella
persona.
The last time in the Capital of
Blizzards, Buffalo.
The van broke down there, and
he and the crew had to endure
an extra day getting it dug out
and repaired and de-grimed.
Del met Victor then. Dropped in
at the dark cocktail lounge he
owned when she couldn’t sleep.
When Cliff had a remote in Portland,
Maine for a howling Nor'easter out of
Canada, she returned to Victor and
they discussed the poetry he had
recommended.
Romance? Nonsense! Though his
terrible limp intrigued.
One of the young women got mono,
and she found herself on camera again,
together with Cliff in Nova Scotia.
When she returned to the cocktail
lounge, Victor had died!
She was asked to say something
at his memorial service the following
Tuesday.
She worried at to the literature content
some expected, so went to the quirky
bookstore to inquire as to a suitable
tragic poem she could read.
But Jellybean Shawcross--her actual name--offered to impersonate her instead. “That dark lighting! They really don’t know what you look like!”
Del said no way!
But Jellybean challenged “Aw come
on! Faint heart na’er won Fair Lady!”
Deal struck, and Cliff stuck in
Philadelphia that hailing night
anyway. “Size of Quarters!”
Jellybean reported to her around
eleven as to the completely
successful ruse, and they couldn't
stop laughing.
The more they giggled and drank,
as the rain pounded, the more
apparent she’d stay the night.Labels: conversation, imitation, literary, marriage, performance, poetry, restless
Wednesday, January 11, 2017
Serving Each Other On Appletree Lane
Delilah Stebbins loved hearing her
morning bird sing.
Distant, but lovely.
She listened to birds on the net,
but never could identify the species.
“You always wanna find out too much!”
remarked her mother.
Since his accident on the railroad,
Bill Hye couldn’t sleep but a few hours.
His "hobby" consisted of a 6 AM rub of
a wet cork on a glass.
Labels: bird songs, deception, imitation, insomnia, lonely, neighbors, sleep
Tuesday, November 15, 2016
Role
Pops recognizes nobody visiting
the hospice.
Until he decides everyone, male and
female is Oswit Krelle, the veteran
character actor.
Indeed, he is also. And becomes more
animated in the process.
So, visiting at his bed, becomes Krelles
speaking to each other.
And, everyone catching the enthusiastic
fever, lots of pseudo drama and kidding.
When the doctors and nurses take it really
over the top, in costume, you’d think the whole
participation would get old.
But, not the case.
Pops eventually ceases being Krelle, and an hour
later, the actual Krelle dies suddenly at a Hollywood diner, choking on “steak” gristle.
Immediately after, Pops meets him in the “Tunnel,”which he had taken in his strange mind to visit.
Krelle quite amused at so many imitating him.
“I was minor. Makes me feel major.”
Pops tells him that he’s thinking of being a serial
killer next, but Krelle thought he’d lose the fun
of it that way.
Soon after, Pops dies, drifting away in quiet sleep
as himself.
The young doctors and nurses thought about kind
of Halloweening the memorial service, but
Dr Warren Hartz, Superintendent, warned them
against it.
Labels: character acting, costume, death, hospice, imitation, old, role playing, serial killer, young
