Poem: BLACK ENOUGH ACTOR

BLACK ENOUGH ACTOR

I see others sweat,

see them wait and prepare

almost all of them looking like

a Black Actor

I hear them sing, one by one

voices sounding like Motown

or church —

knowing that's not me

my voice is not like that

I hear them perform, speak,

and recite

each one dramatic,

whether soft or raised voice

each one sounding like

a real, Black Actor

Is that what they want?

Is it better to choose

my favorite Angry Aaron

or stick with the coin flips

and be the only one like me

they'll likely see?

Should I use my time clowning,

geeking up hallowed space

before local theater

decision-making power?

Fear makes safer seem sounder,

stops me spreading my self

and my soul

Sinister, stifling whispers of fear

make safer seem smarter,

sensible,

sounder

stopped me from spreading

my self

and my soul

Almost.

I can't stand up to be counted

if I count myself out,

a different design of triple threat

but am I Black Enough,

or will they be won

by the One And Only Me?

Sunday Callback Freewrites (with prompts)

I had an amazing callback audition on Sunday. Part of the process involved freewriting and even though neither of them was incorporated in the final product (which we were proud of), I liked them enough to keep them. Sometimes you don't have to kill your darlings, but you set them aside for other uses.

THE SUN SHONE THROUGH THE CRACKS IN THE GYM CEILING LIKE LATTICEWORK IN AN ENGLISH GARDEN.
Weaving a pattern, a blanket of light. It was an odd blanket, but in that way that mystifies instead of scares. It was thin at one end and spread wider and wider, with room enough for anyone who could see it. Dust motes were not dirty, but living, warm and comforting, massaging each tiny hair that rose in goosebumps. I wasn't cold; I was energized.

GRAVELLY, DRY, DUSTY; THE ROAD TO HEAVEN IS PAVED WITH KNUCKLES, EARTH, PRESSURE, TIME
You hate the struggle — resent it. You learn to curse your tenacity and loathe your ambition. But you are so focused on the goal.
     "Keep your eyes on the prize."
     "Follow the drinking gourd," the ancestors say.
Why do you do this to yourself? Not cool, Robert Frost. "Road less traveled" my stubborn, Black ass. But if I quit, there's no way to succeed