Stars

It was the middle of season four of the first show I directed, Lost Angeles. The protagonist had fallen into and out of love with his damsel several times.  Obstacles overcome, tender moments had.

We were losing steam. The same lines and punchlines.

I spoke separately with each actor. I told them they would have to step it up. They were the faces of the show, and if anyone was going to believe in us again, it damn well better start with them.

It didn’t come from the writers’ studio, or me, or anyone else. Our stars acted like stars.

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Dose of Dopeness

“What are you thinking?”

“I don’t wanna have sex.”

“I was going to tell you the same. Sex means a lot to me and I don’t rush into it. I haven’t had sex with many girls. I just wanted to let you know.”

We paused.

“You said no sex. You didn’t say no kissing.”

“You want a peck?” She leaned in and pecked.

“Wait how did that go? I forget.”

She leaned in and kissed.

“Aw I lost it.”

She leaned in and kissed.

“Oh really? I remember it being more like this.” I leaned in, and we made out.

One Thousand Ninety-Fifth Day

I can’t recall all the islands we’ve explored,
all the trampled archipelagos
and fog-shrouded shores.
I can’t tell which makes my heart beat more –
the sudden, giddy shout of “Land!”
or the moment when we must cast off again.
The joy of topography ever followed
by a sad, swelling turn
back into the fresh-scented unknown.
How many leagues back to home?
Are we even on a globe?
Anglerfish in cavernous depths below,
clouds like gray ghosts,
and names carved in whalebone;
we are the chosen,
the lost voyagers,
interlopers in god-forsaken waters.
I feel fearfully powerful
when the ship groans.

split myself

if I could I’d split myself quit myself un-knit my body dismantle my joints point my cells my heavens and hells in your direction come for you become one with you glom onto you womp on clomp in your shoes dance like a fool enter all your schools get cool get hot get off get on and off and on and toss myself through you undo you I’m stupid I need Cupid I’m killing myself denying the flying steadfast over here drinking beers over here lonely clone me send me through the phone chew me swallow and digest me please