the players assemble

it never gets any easier

from macbeth to mack the knife

we read our lines

we make the gestures

locked into character

we stalk these stages

we move in and out of focus

we embrace and ignore the others

at the end of long days suddenly

the theatre closes down

out on grim snowy streets we are adrift

i knock on various doors i find

in a corridor of doors

in a roomful of white gardens

in market place within a globe of snow

i am sorry i have never been outside before

i do not know how to act when i’m not acting

once everything was taken care of

i knew what to say and when

the bullets were blanks

the sky and trees just props

the music written especially for each scene

singing and dancing and moving to cues

out here where life is harsh

this winter bores into me

my words unheard declaimed from a gutter

the birds sing ugly songs

incessant upheaval

impossible weariness

each new day staggered out of future

yes i deserve everything the good and the bad

a snake on a ladder

a viper in romes bosom

a slow worm on a fast track

we should undo all that we did

the void is kinder than we’d imagine i’m sure

otherwise it would not be

nothing has become something

sometimes the opposite is true

my characters taught me much

and i marvel how they possess me still

and how time flies when you having your best shot

and time stops when you forget just one line

and opening nights and the end of a run

in a chemical glow of faces and seats

the audience awaiting just beyond the crimson curtains

merciless critics

adoring fans

the rustle of programmes

maybe only last year

i strode on the stage

prospero to the nines

my cloak with its magical signs

a tower on a wild isle

but i was a magician among the spirits

and how ariel obeying my commands

shot thru the sky on an almost invisible harness

winched by the stagehands in another universe behind the facades

and the mechanical waves went up and down

and at the movement of my staff

the sound of thunder

the flash of  artificial lightning

the vague sound of torrential rain

how they roared as i cast my spells into that firmament containing mayhem

ariel calling down the storm

turmoil vivid like a scar

all shot through with delicious revenge

afterwards as i took off my makeup

the players chatting quietly and smoking cigarettes

i was still in the mirror with miranda and caliban

and the isle swirled around my wild eyes

outside here

the real life

waking from a sweet fleeting dream

up against the present stretching on all sides

absolutely impenetrable

the past is inviolate

even for prospero

who lays down his magic

and retires into obscurity