# 1
Such a star mired in deep dark
Outlines of charcoal smut and
greasepaint.
Few would stop, fewer would notice
None would pocket the gold.
In a heartbeat’s lifetime its angst is palpable, bulbous
and paper strewn
About its form, but restless and fickle, it wavers in
thought,
Independent of space, time and manner.
Will nothing become of this purposeless creature whose
love is but
Fleeting and perilous?
Resigned to resound in a bubble of
conformity.
Why not? Why so?
The whole is unwhole and the
body calloused and weary
But the eyes glitter far, far away.
— Richard Sisson, senior journalism and political science