Give Me Intermissions Or...

…Give me death.

So many challenging modalities.
So many diverse types.
Horns ala Miles Davis.
Baton ala Gustavo Dudamel.
Curtain ala Eugene O'Neill.
Blackout ala Alvin Ailey.

Walk-throughs…

The Met.
MOMA.
Guggenheim.
Whitney.

For some, the aspiration ache…

Actors Studio.
Steppenwolf.
Goodman.
Oregon Shakespeare.
So many regional rewards.

And the classics of the silver screen…

Fellini.
Antonioni.
Bergman.
Kurosawa.
Kubrick.

Forget not literature…

Virginia Woolf.
George Orwell.
Henry James.
William Faulkner.
David Foster Wallace


And lest we forget Nature
The mother of subtle intervals
Ever cycling its wisdom
Seeking our personal creations.

Intermissions…

Life knows of pause,
But often squanders its use.

While…

For those choosing to drink of contaminated water,
Art remains relegated to the nectar of Gods forsaken.

Yet for those of pure thirst,
Avoiding such damaging sustenance
Rendering imagination's spirit dying,
There is a desperate call for pause.

The lesson…

Without the suspension,
We remain vulnerable,
Overwhelmed,
By diversionary smothering.

Might it be…

Without some imaginative intermissions
Reality remains forever…

Just our everyday crushing reality?