[dead]

Mortensen read an interminable original poem about exploding bombs, burning flesh, flattened huts and American guilt

Oh man, I really want to read this.

Actors are never funnier than when they fancy themselves writers.

Well, OK they are funnier when they fancy themselves musicians. Or political experts. Or environomental scientists. Or historians. Or philosophers. Or parents. Or singers. Or doctors. Or ministers.

Anyway, I still want to read Vito’s poem. I’ll bet it’s a hoot.

[trajanus_red]

Well, here is one of his **brilliant** and **deep** poems...

Enjoy!

STONES

MET BY A LAKE NEAR THE SUN
YOUR MOUTH AND EYES, ARMS
AND LEGS, MELTED AS THOUGH
WE'D KNOWN EACH OTHER WELL
AND NEEDED ONLY REKINDLE
WARMTH OF THE FAMILIAR.
AS IF PATIENCE WERE REWARDED
AND NOW WE'D SHARE EVERYTHING.

AFTER THE FLOWER BATH
PETALS CAUGHT IN HAIR
ON THE DRAIN COVER.
HE MISSES HER.
CORSAGE SAVER
KEEPER
OF CHILDREN’S ARTWORK,
WHOSE BLUE-HOLED FLESH
IS USED TO PARTING WITH SACRIFICES
TO BOYS’ TRIALS
AND MEN’S DESIRES,
AND WONDERS NOW
WHAT THERE WAS
TO BE AFRAID OF.