a blue-bold bolt of electricity
through that place in my head
where the soft spot used to be
my mouth is where your eyes are
-and your heart
is where my skull is.
–and there are
two of every me
“Intwo” by Angie Hoover-Hillhouse
click on images for more information about the artists
yesterday, on the car ride home,
I had to pull over and
slipping your slight fingers
under my shirt and over my fluttering heart-
I let my eyes roll inwards
to that blinking
jungle of cobweb confusion
in your body
between sleep and sight.
Where everything flashes
“I had to” by Angie Hoover-Hillhouse
Artwork: Wildwood by Elle Hanley
I see that it is me
I am running after.
soft, bowed legs
flat, smacking feet
and a lung inflated by the the pinching mist
of your marigold perfume.
I live in
circles within circles in a Nowhereland–
as long as the haze of your touch
in my chest,
I am happy to spin
like a carousel horse
with a pole
“Spun” by Angie Hoover-Hillhouse
Artwork: A Delicate Balance by Morgan Kendall
when curls unfold
limber fingers embrace salty hair
bound by the sea
through the earth
above the air
heaving hearts thrust blood out and around
once loose with language
breathes large and small
to fill plump plumb colored lungs
“Plump Plumb” by Meaghan Merrifield
Perhaps an actor should expect to fall in love.
Because, in a sense, it is part of the job description.
In a way, an actor could say,
“I audition, I network, I memorize lines, and I fall in love.”
“I love you.”
When an actor says it, they have to mean it.
They have to feel it, or you can tell.
You watch a movie and you think,
“This fucking sucks.”
There’s no time for it.
Art that does not come from some manner of truth
Is self-indulgent without being rewarding.
(I don’t want to forget this feeling. When time stopped and all there was… was he and I. In real life he is married and I am living with my boyfriend, and this man and I know nothing about each other.
But an actor’s life is blurred with fantasy, blessed with passion, and cursed with un-satisfiable desire.
I knew that in this room, under these lights, this time set aside for us to act, I knew that I was safe and I was free to experience him. I these
moments, I lamented and he lamented that he married too soon. A mistake had been made, because there was a magic here, a knowledge that came from somewhere else. And desire.)
I allowed myself to enjoy it for a few hours.
I know it is fleeting.
“An Actor and Love” by Vanessa Cate
Artwork: Drugi by Vesna Pesic
the curtain that I peer through is Ivory
so when your legs tremble
in your back’s lonely slouch,
I see in them
the earthiness of light brown. And you are
a little biege feather
quivering in anticipation of the morning breeze.
is more soothing
than the truth.
“Through the Window” by Angie Hoover-Hillhouse
Artwork: The Velvet Darkness of his Mind by Morgan Kendall