Ghostwriter

Alone in the house I felt

Exposed,

A child performer

In a talent show

Where the audience,

Lacking prescience,

Sunk in a darkness so deep,

Might be dead, enchanted or asleep.

But then, beyond the stage –

Its undulating vibe too vague to gauge –

Surging like a scull without navigator,

The crowd huzzahs each little gladiator;

High upon a platform, dissembling contumely,

Celebrity judges one, two, three

Postpartum artists turned hacks

Rave or turn their stony backs.

Afraid of the bedroom
Dim-lit by five watery moons,

Scared of the bed,

Beachhead

Where textile involutions lapped in waves

There for decades as we lay,

Rippling above diurnal imprints,

Forensic silhouettes

By time forgiven

As though awaiting Armageddon;

Scared of a trap,

Relief map

Of our sex and sleep,

A hex so deep;

Mind abuzz with pale lights,

With epithalamic rites, delights

Of flesh

Dissolving into flesh, 
Of senses all akin,
Of crawling into one another's skin,

I remembered summer nights

Warm and good

From childhood:

A jar of June bugs:

Insect-thugs

Flashing their tiny globes:

Mini-strobes,

Performing for us their canticle,

Their miracle.

Slightly tragic, making magic

For admiring

Before expiring.

That night I slept unsuccessfully –

Restlessly,

Without Zen

In the den

With the picture window –

Akimbo

Intaglio of–

Cold uncurtained rectangle;
Alternating dark-light, 
Black-white,

24/7,
Dwarf star of 
The upper heavens.

In the middle of the night

I sat abruptly up, in fright –

Stood in the doorway to the room,
Faced my doom,

Faced the black rectangle,

Colder than ever,

Saw a man staring – at me:

No, never!

Call a friend?

Call the police?

I recognized his frowning face.

His wide blank eyes,

His stony chin.

Would he

Stay outside

Or try to come in?

A face I’d seen before –

Oh Lord!

Beat it! Beat it!

No one wants to be defeated.

Fight or flight?

(In the Heat of the Night)

Why’s he tarrying?

What’s he carrying?

A Jar of Dreams or

Jar of Hearts?

Nothing’s what it seems

Moving Parts

Animate this crazy toy,

Man or boy.

Stare him down?

Shame the clown?

Show ‘em how funky

Strong is your fight

Or try to rumble

His pallid demeanor?

It doesn’t matter

Who’s wrong or right

On go the lights –

He’s harder to see –

All the lights are on

But no one’s home

I turn around

And suddenly

Shades of Roman
History:

There's that face –

Visage notorious –

There on The Twelve Caesars  
By Suetonius:

Book cover featured

For midnight Facetime

Sculpted forehead,

Traits straight, aligned,
 

Perched on a shelf

– that blinded face –

Eye-level portrait

On a tall bookcase

All reflected in window glass –

Julius Caesar by Suetonius!