TALKING LANDSCAPES

Talking landscapes in silent films
are like ghosts walking across
a crowded proscenium.

Mind, full of fragments:
Cubist props. Vigorous energy
like being aware
that an artist is in the room.

I’m contained in a jet-stream:
naked & clothed at the same instance,
embodied in an unbound Unbody.

I’m an undying Hamlet-figure in a windy
Shakespearean echo—
Ethereal, haunted, ipso facto.