Thursday, May 8, 2014

Smoke Screen

                            Stanley Kubrick, for Look Magazine, 1949.
Smoke Screen
Fortune flashed in his hair,
in the dark of his eyes.
Summer skimmed the surface
of her thoughts.
She wondered what it would be like
to dance in his wind.
The stars drew his name
in clusters of burning points.
She wished on them.
She battled the air for knowledge.
She burned incense.
She dreamed of orange blossom
and spices on the altar of his being,
And she played the part of everyone
but herself.


  1. give me a moment. im still thinking about this one

  2. Twas a revolutionary road, it seems !

  3. To dance in his wind...sigh...

  4. "And she played the part of everyone but herself"...Thank goodness times change. This is elegant,!

  5. Oh, I so agree with Lyn's comment ... how many of us have done just that ~ when we were young. Very nice.

  6. And all the men and women merely players... (shades of Shakespeare?!)

  7. I love this poem. It's an enjoyable read with so many layers. One of my favorites I've read today. It tells a riveting story!

  8. The games we play indeed....!

  9. To dance in the wind, but as yourself would be the best way. Thank goodness with years we learn to dance as our selves!

  10. I love the wondering what it would feel like to dance in his wind...

    and the playing every part but herself.

    Really nice.


  11. So find, bittersweet and true - you've a pitch-perfect picture to go with these words too. Ah, thanks for this bright spot.