Onstage at the Shakespeare Festival
The exit lights are dimmed.
The stage doors are locked.
Under a spotlight,
I stand alone.
Without a clue which part I play.
Without a script.
Without any clothes.
Holding a cup of tea.
I pour cream into my tea.
I pour myself into my tea.
I play the part
of the tempest.
published in Substack
***
Dazed and Confused
No way, those Waymo
self-driving cars
have nightmares
in the dark.
They honk out for
each other,
and sleep-drive
in despair.
They wake up
all their humans
who cannot do a thing,
but wait until the morning
light and drive their
silent, sluggish cars
to Starbucks for some coffee.
True story:
published in Substack
.......stunned by the first verse....just stunned.....in fact, so much I found it hard to focus on the second, and can only promise to come back to do it justice and read.
I have been a theatre director, and really felt the atmosphere in that poem very, very much. Will check your published work because have really become spellbound in these last three poems.