is the theater who do you suppose is
most responsible for the success of a
production some would say it’s certainly
the actors no others would say without a
doubt it’s the director sorry but no it
is indeed the stage manager who is the
glue the continuity for the whole cast
and crew and right before a production
is about to begin
that stage manager says places which
means everybody get ready because
something wonderful is about to happen
something amazing is about to occur and
if a production of a play and opera a
musical is done exceptionally well
sometimes the audience will be moved to
yell Bravo Bravo but if that actor
performer is a woman or a little brown
girl it would be better to say Bravo
that little brown girl was charismatic
effervescence highly creative and just
really cute she wanted to be a poet and
an actress when she grew up
and they would ask her well what makes
you think you want to be a poet and she
said there is an orchard in my soul
where poems fall from me like fruit
self-contained testimonials to every
season I have lived and they said okay
she was also a girl aware that she had a
sacred holy place inside of her filled
with light and music and love and no one
was allowed to enter there except for
her and God it’s described who she was
it was the anchor for her soul it was a
sanctuary from all the world’s troubles
strong men broke into her secret holy
place they blew out her candles they
shut off the music and they spill their
seed on her sacred ground why did you do
that she asked them why did you let us
in they answered let you in I wasn’t
even sure that place was there and as
she spoke those words a burning happened
across her chest angled lines a big
prominent v4 victim and she wondered in
her small brown head what does what is
to become of me was to become of the of
the plays I want to do and and and the
poems I want to write she looked for the
helpers the healers to find a way to rid
herself of this V and one of the very
sage old helpers said I want to tell you
a story
it’s called blaze they nicknamed her
blaze her neighbors pulled her from her
burning home while she murmured
something about leader and verse and
rhyme well no sooner than did she come
to that she she broke free from their
arms and ran back inside her burning
house well her neighbors her
in after her calling her name but they
soon lost sight of her in the dark and
smoky hallways certain she would perish
and they would perish they had no choice
but to to run back outside they wrung
their hands and shook their heads over
what would possess her to return to that
inferno moments later she stumbled out
of her doorway clothes and hair singed
but she smiled as she lay in the
ambulance she smiled as the skin split
off when they wrapped her arms as they
opened each blistered hand she looked
down at the crumpled unburned poems they
saved me
she said they saved me how could I do
any less for them they nicknamed her
blaze and this little round brown girl
heard this story and absorbed this story
and wore the story like a like a garment
and she knew that despite the fact she’d
been through a fire of sorts there was
still poetry left in her and as she took
on the civilization she felt that the
lines moving and becoming curvy so she
what she wound up with was this
wonderful S on her chest s 4 survivor
and she wrote I hang my soul’s garments
outside to dry in the yard on the line
in front of God and everyone to see nosy
neighbors complete strangers who draw
by slowly to gawk deeply stained
articles of my life just flapping in the
breeze irregular edges sewn on patches
scars soaking up sun and unmended tears
visible to the naked eye
she wrote I put them out there on
purpose I hang them on the line in
defiance I pin them with premeditation
and I let them fly why in case some
other splintered spirit will happen by
and see my soul’s garments looking
uncannily like their own ones they are
too ashamed to show it might release
them embolden them dare them to free
their own Souls apparel from dark dank
places and to drape them in triumph
beside mine the poems begin to grow and
flow as the healing came and was not
enough for her to get an S her movie she
was intent insistent that other these
become s’s and then there came the time
when they called places she refused to
debut as victim she made them hold act
one while she adjusted her stance she
called for a pedasi
to decorate her scars and made them
reprint the playbill and renamed my
character survivor she made her entrance
found her mark upstaged all
that she could carry the parts by the
time they called curtain roses roses
carpeted her stage she bowed before a
rapt audience who had exchanged their
pity for applause Bravo
[Applause]
most responsible for the success of a
production some would say it’s certainly
the actors no others would say without a
doubt it’s the director sorry but no it
is indeed the stage manager who is the
glue the continuity for the whole cast
and crew and right before a production
is about to begin
that stage manager says places which
means everybody get ready because
something wonderful is about to happen
something amazing is about to occur and
if a production of a play and opera a
musical is done exceptionally well
sometimes the audience will be moved to
yell Bravo Bravo but if that actor
performer is a woman or a little brown
girl it would be better to say Bravo
that little brown girl was charismatic
effervescence highly creative and just
really cute she wanted to be a poet and
an actress when she grew up
and they would ask her well what makes
you think you want to be a poet and she
said there is an orchard in my soul
where poems fall from me like fruit
self-contained testimonials to every
season I have lived and they said okay
she was also a girl aware that she had a
sacred holy place inside of her filled
with light and music and love and no one
was allowed to enter there except for
her and God it’s described who she was
it was the anchor for her soul it was a
sanctuary from all the world’s troubles
strong men broke into her secret holy
place they blew out her candles they
shut off the music and they spill their
seed on her sacred ground why did you do
that she asked them why did you let us
in they answered let you in I wasn’t
even sure that place was there and as
she spoke those words a burning happened
across her chest angled lines a big
prominent v4 victim and she wondered in
her small brown head what does what is
to become of me was to become of the of
the plays I want to do and and and the
poems I want to write she looked for the
helpers the healers to find a way to rid
herself of this V and one of the very
sage old helpers said I want to tell you
a story
it’s called blaze they nicknamed her
blaze her neighbors pulled her from her
burning home while she murmured
something about leader and verse and
rhyme well no sooner than did she come
to that she she broke free from their
arms and ran back inside her burning
house well her neighbors her
in after her calling her name but they
soon lost sight of her in the dark and
smoky hallways certain she would perish
and they would perish they had no choice
but to to run back outside they wrung
their hands and shook their heads over
what would possess her to return to that
inferno moments later she stumbled out
of her doorway clothes and hair singed
but she smiled as she lay in the
ambulance she smiled as the skin split
off when they wrapped her arms as they
opened each blistered hand she looked
down at the crumpled unburned poems they
saved me
she said they saved me how could I do
any less for them they nicknamed her
blaze and this little round brown girl
heard this story and absorbed this story
and wore the story like a like a garment
and she knew that despite the fact she’d
been through a fire of sorts there was
still poetry left in her and as she took
on the civilization she felt that the
lines moving and becoming curvy so she
what she wound up with was this
wonderful S on her chest s 4 survivor
and she wrote I hang my soul’s garments
outside to dry in the yard on the line
in front of God and everyone to see nosy
neighbors complete strangers who draw
by slowly to gawk deeply stained
articles of my life just flapping in the
breeze irregular edges sewn on patches
scars soaking up sun and unmended tears
visible to the naked eye
she wrote I put them out there on
purpose I hang them on the line in
defiance I pin them with premeditation
and I let them fly why in case some
other splintered spirit will happen by
and see my soul’s garments looking
uncannily like their own ones they are
too ashamed to show it might release
them embolden them dare them to free
their own Souls apparel from dark dank
places and to drape them in triumph
beside mine the poems begin to grow and
flow as the healing came and was not
enough for her to get an S her movie she
was intent insistent that other these
become s’s and then there came the time
when they called places she refused to
debut as victim she made them hold act
one while she adjusted her stance she
called for a pedasi
to decorate her scars and made them
reprint the playbill and renamed my
character survivor she made her entrance
found her mark upstaged all
that she could carry the parts by the
time they called curtain roses roses
carpeted her stage she bowed before a
rapt audience who had exchanged their
pity for applause Bravo
[Applause]
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