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The Actor

Trapped by his passion
Lost in his art
Stealing other`s lines
To mark his own
At war with his world
Guevera`s child in search of
The dust mote that
Defines his essence
Always out of reach
Dancing on the sunlight
Knifing through
A fly specked window
Alone with the breath of
future thoughts

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
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An unusual dance of a poem, like the flight of a fly,
flitting from place to place, your lone character,
trapped by his passion, his art.

Unusual Joe.

"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.

This poem was written many years earlier during a period of questioning in my life. I ound the stage a place to "play" out my tension. This was a manifestation of that. You sensed it very intuitively.

Best regards,


My mind's writing cheques my body can't cash.

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