For James Dean

March 31, 2008
Lordly glances and brow-raisings profound,
brought early wrinkles to the score-old skin.
Mixture of equal parts---man and child
Sifted and stirred into complex perfection.
Tormented by internal matricide,
and haunts urging him to flee.
Humanity’s love was an inhuman burden.
When one does not understand himself,
how can he help others?
Communication pretended,
was his religion, his art.
Manic eyed and wild haired,
astride a whirring engine.
Embracing his death machine,
as he raced his life to the finish.

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