Poetic interviews ramble in my head.

I feel the airwaves inside.

My personal station is tightly tuned

to the programs in my inner sanctum.

Words are scrawled onto the printed page:

a reflection of serenity and rage.

I am the author of my own thoughts –

my soul the attentive audience.

Memories are projected onto a silver screen

Like a newsreel or a virtual video tape.

Commentary and analysis form

the mental monologue sounding within me.

I turn the pages of my life’s script

as each day of the calendar is crossed off,

each scene a drama or comedy

in a lifelong, unrehearsed improvisation.

Living the reality of my own surreal world,

breathing and thinking are my media,

chosen to construct the character I am,

part of the work of art that is my life.

George Cassutto
November 28, 2010