Day at the Beach

Weeping for his past,
rare photo of Peter Pan–
Next stop, Neverland.
Photo by Weegee

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The Gift

We are here, but briefly,
shadows of candle-light
dancing between dust and choir,
day and night,
so consider today
a good day
to begin, or to continue
unwrapping yourself,
and giving you to you as a gift,
your soul rightfully tagged
as both receiver and sender,
in what constitutes
a wild embracing and radical fusion
of the old and the new, in that place
where wonder meets faith,
and the fragile birds of gospel
sing sweetly and achingly
of hearts broken open
to pour light,
to inherit the tenderest
of lost and lasting claims.

Film still from The Kid

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Star

In the shadow of
worn celestial totems–
mortal weight to bear.
Edie Sedgwick

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Next?

A dancer’s sad dream–

Flight, short-lived,

returning to earth, sharp teeth.

Artwork by Linda Stojak

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Imprint

Debutante,
left to smolder
and ash,
traceless,
in some afterlife,
unannounced
to the trailing cortege.
Artwork by Linda Stojak
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Lulu in Hollywood

By cyclical turns,
she burned silver into stock–
Lulu’s lasting surge.
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Shutter

Witness to a claim,
Pandora’s box-cutting gaze–
hope at the bottom.
Louise Brooks

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Cadenza

Some death
is musical,
a candied apparition
scalding the bones
of Venus
in soft chambers
of silk
and notes
of smoldering silence.
Louise Brooks

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Silent Night

Start with the glacial base,
the hunk of unforgiving crystal
on which the tree is mounted,
then trace the filigreed limbs
of the tree, its shadow
a twin belonging to the woman
modeling Winter
as a softly fringed species
of smoldering wraith,
and come to your end,
panting, inflamed,
aware of how much distance
can be covered
by way of yearning.
Louise Brooks

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Luminaries

She came to know him
through the brushwork of fingers–
Light, the common touch.

Charlie Chaplin meeting Helen Keller
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