A THESPIAN’S PHANTOM—MIDNIGHT

pamphlets flutter into  

the wingspan of cardinal-red seats

heading westbound onto 

off-broadway prospect;

delivery sublime, 

sanguinely, 

or else how would a medium like ours 

behead critics in the shadow 

limelight refracts

Their Columns: forebode 

each row in the house, 

meanwhile agile whispers 

take flight from one end to the other;

the curtains curtail, 

but we cast our vows

to eulogize tomorrow’s performance, 

Unabridged

UPSTAGE LEFT, an evict somehow 

by understudy;

his soliloquy insults a crowd 

only convinced otherwise,

taunted momentarily by a lease on time

Our spectators act to compliment

and not to virtue when 

the fretful chameleons

pour out on wooden planks;

we outnumber regardless

in tried and true fashion

INTERMISSIONs pushback

the wordless overtures,

exercising rhapsodic language

in the midst of hesitation;

dance ribbons the echochamber

through tailored observance,

tuning a mass temperament anent

the minute: the second act, unbegun,

flocks the balcony to their feet.