the actor

February 2, 2017 at 12:46 am Leave a comment

the actor

There were moments, yes,
when you thought to see yourself
captured in a cinematic moment
on some silver screen or other, meaning

lent by focus and photographic wiles…  times when a
fanfare or roll
of drums seemed noticeable
by absence…  times, too, when a script’s

prompting would have done the trick, provided some
continuance, some skein of reason.

but again and again you find
yourself, playing ‘cinéma vérité’, to
no audience at all.


A movie that shows ordinary people in actual activities without being controlled by a director.


I am fairly sure I didn’t get the diacritical marks correct. Close, though.

Entry filed under: poetry, voices. Tags: , .

Deflection of Blame Me

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