# 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