Crosswalk

cindy #18
There was a staggered repeatability
to her days
which she counted upon
for a semblance of security
and rightness,
so you can imagine
her surprise when she looked across
the street and saw a woman
identical to herself, same head scarf,
same handbag, same heels,
walking backwards
with an assurance
assigned to normalcy.

 

(Photo by Cindy Sherman)
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Holding Pattern

cindy #12
Was it fate, a fire sale,
history?
The longest-running soap serial
was drawing to a close,
if only the damned latch
hadn’t been broken,
if only escape plans
could be executed
without the claim
of baggage.

 

(Photo by Cindy Sherman)

 

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At a Loss

cindy # 24
No matter
how many times
she played it
over
and over
in her mind
she couldn’t
for the life of her
digest the magnitude
of what had been taken
and why.

 

(Photo by Cindy Sherman)
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Homecoming

cindy #60
All it would take
is a single match,
and everything inside her
that had dried into tinder.
Funny,
that it would be
the house and not her
engulfed in flames,
but the heat would blister
and violently press needles into her skin,
so she could feel the weight of collapse,
and know that, despite the lack
of physical evidence, a significant part
of who she was
would find burial, if not peace,
in siege and ash.

 

(Photo by Cindy Sherman)
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Raising Cuckoo Awareness

Cuckoos

Ballad of the Cuckoos is a short film I wrote, which I will be directing.
Please visit our page and subscribe to our email list and follow the evolution of our film. Or, if you are into what it is we are creating, please help spread the word as it will take a village of cuckoos to raise our baby from the conceptual ground floor to the big screen.
ABOUT: A man and a pregnant woman find themselves trapped in a children’s room, with no memory of who they are or how they got there. Surreal romance ensues as they create lives inside a one-room universe.

DSC04706

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Movie Still

cindy #56
Could they see through her?
Her want of glamour preserved,
though absence laid claim?

 

(Photo by Cindy Sherman)
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Travelogue

cindy #44
She never did go anywhere,
you know?
Some ghosts
become totemic stand-bys
for the lives they never led,
gloaming potentialties
that passed, in solemn wisp,
from dream to dream,
then fade.

 

(Photo by Cindy Sherman)
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Panoply

cindy #14
Consternation,
from multiple perspectives—
Someone must decide.

 

(Photo by Cindy Sherman)
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Dusting

cindy #8
You don’t know
where the nights go,
what apparitions
with monstrous appetites
do the swallowing.
It is a mystery,
soundless, unsigned.
But what remained
in the whorish glare
of daytime
were all the undigested bits,
the flesh creeping
with prickly beads
of sun
like scabs baked
in magma
and hazy unremembered
regret.

 

(Photo by Cindy Sherman)
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Following

cindy #27b
To become a vagrant
to the territory
of one’s own self,
requires the right kind of corridor,
an elliptical sense of fugue,
and footfalls which softly echo
a stalker’s unmitigated pursuit.

 

(Photo by Cindy Sherman)
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