The heavy black velours swallow sound, light, dust.
\nI touch one: dessicated time cascades:
\nI have to resist the tickle in my throat
\nthe trickle in my armpits.<\/p>\n
In the light, time cascades, draws me;
\nmy belly lurches toward the red exit sign:
\nbut I stand my ground, ready for the certain:
\nI will stumble out across the wood.<\/p>\n
Familiar patterns dissolve, refocus:
\nwords become notes on an alien scale,
\nemphases become cues, false promises,
\nvertical threatens to become horizontals.<\/p>\n
I\u00a0rediscover breathing,\u00a0chant resolutions:
\nresolve to walk deserts, climb mountains,
\ngive to the homeless who might be baby
\nJesus or Mohammed or the Bhudda\u2014oh<\/p>\n
[podcast]http:\/\/riverwriter.ca\/podcast\/in_the_wings.mp3[\/podcast]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Experienced performers usually can mobilize stage fright to give energy to the performance. Standing in the wings of a stage anticipating can be a daunting or exhilarating experience. This poem depicts one such experience. Continue reading