My family and I have been involved theatre and music for a very long time. Indeed, my wife and I met in a production of “South Pacific” with the Georgetown Gilbert & Sullivan Society (GG&SS).
Recent shows here in State College have included “Oliver!”, “The Sound of Music,” and “Sweeney Todd,” with Singing Onstage, “Dracula”, “The Survivor”, and “Gypsy” with the State College Community Theatre (SCCT), and “The Memory of Water”, “Harper Regan”, and “Two Can Play” with The Next Stage theatre company.
Some rascal or rogue Stashed kryptonite Upon my person.
Perhaps in that fingertip pocket of my Levi’s, Or the underside of the spare button on that green and black plaid shirt, Or the tunnel in my underwear that no man uses I assure you but most boys try at least once.
I have always loved flying And nerdy girls. I have been underestimated by villains, And see beneath the surfaces of things.
taunts of bad hair boy-men transfix the play yard. mine is bigger. no mine. look.
there is no alternative channel for the cartoon among nations.
our smiley wiley has chased some tail feather off a cliff and stands now unbound by ground, animation suspended.
‘tis only a matter of time until the forces of nature overcome their shock at the effrontery and shame gravity to reassert its inevitable grasp on matter and mass.
The tools of the do-it-yourself surgeon vary in sharpness. Some glint in just that light, and cut in their fashion, but how deeply or cleanly only the scar will tell.
And it surprises, the ooze I mean, and yes, the stench. Is that me? I expected something more or perhaps different from the excavation of this interior.
Worse, once extracted not all the giblets fit back into the cavity. What to do about the extra bits?
sometimes late in the 4th quarter you're down a score, out of timeouts, and it's 4th and long.
on the line is your whole season
or your job
or your life.
and you throw the Hail Mary toward that one corner of the endzone where your receivers just might beat the cornerbacks in a jump ball or a volleyball tip, and two feet just might land in bounds, and the crowd just might roar, and you just might reach to the sky in triumph, and your tears just might be ones of joy.
oh my, yes. I oh so wanted to see a tuxedo, penguin crisp, satin shiny, pseudo-sparkle when he sauntered by us peons, clinging to such rags as misfortune left in her cloud of dust and tears. Coughing.
but, oh my no. no. Clad there not in finery, but in the simplest of suits. Birthday I am told the style. Flattered, but not flattering. Scoffing, not coughing.
And in seeing I could not unsee, despite I swear so wanting, you must believe, Nor in knowing could I unknow what what wisdom bears in its stoop and beard the penultimate emptiness of every emperor, penguin or man.
I flare my talons and prepare to strike, but only in defense. I sharpen my beak, but only in warning.
I am your presidential detail, your Secret Service. Vigilant. Committed. I seek out bullets fired in your direction by indifferent snipers and absorb their impact with joy. Unwounded.
I will carry your heart when it cannot be lifted. I will find you when you are lost even to yourself. I will light your darkness with the fire in my eyes, and we will crawl together out of the wilderness.
the call always comes too early in the morning for anything but mischief or the baker
I know who's talking but not the language spoken.
hand on the bannister does not steady. the direction of gravity skewed by other forces of nature.
there now is down, but which way up?
it's like fireworks, dad. you said the colors and patterns come from all the minerals. their making a mutual arrangement designed to ignite and illuminate. you said the designers crafted this one boomy blue and that one sparkly-white. this cascade brilliant, that smiley face a dud. flying high or bursting low, it's all in the timing and atmospheric conditions. don't forget chemistry and physics. human ingenuity (and error).
One last time, Dad says. Jason squeals ands bolts inside the mister. Slippery guy.
The audacity of giant metal tin-men shames the humbler heart.
What are crab cheese fries? Regular with seasoning? Do they sell? Who knows?
The didgery-dude took a raincheck. See, honey, I should have bought one.
Nittany Lion mating calls echo ‘cross the Borough. Love me, do.