Holy Night

cindy #31
It began, innocently,
with the allure
of velvet-dark
and musky incense,
then it became something else,
or she did, a girl
with a ribbed dream-life,
in which she and God
found each other,
spread severely thin
upon the wetted meshes
of bait
and longing.

 

(Photo by Cindy Sherman)
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Somewhere

cindy #29
Chafing,
with matted scales
of light,
became the cinematic measures
by which her solitude
was visaged
and defined.

 

(Photo by Cindy Sherman)
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Current

cindy #28
There is a tiredness
which sleep cannot cure;
there is a life,
undimmed,
surging unprotected
beyond these walls.

 

(Photo by Cindy Sherman)

 

 

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Caligari’s Bride

cindy #26
It was a wrong turn,
modeling a cobbled geography
of hell,
that led her down
and away
from the sorceress she had been
once upon a time
in someone else’s kingdom
of rape and vampires.

 

(Photo by Cindy Sherman)
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This Century or Next

cindy #23
Perhaps,
in a hundred years,
none of this would matter—
the man across the street
would just be a man
and not her husband
holding hands
with that bitch
from 5-C
who had the nerve
to knock on their door
and ask if she could
borrow some butter
she was baking a cake
and was all out—
perhaps, in a hundred years,
bitches that borrow butter
and husbands
will have become
a thing of the past,
but right now,
she had a household to run,
a husband to confront,
and of course the flagrant itch
to burn it all down to the ground,
before picking up the kids.

 

(Photo by Cindy Sherman)
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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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