So I don't have much time, but an update's in order: after an exhausting week of crazy little sleep and much much discussion, we are close close close to having a completed script. And I think it works. I think it's effective and nonpartisan and addresses issues with balance -- I think.

In any case, it's close. Whether it's poetry or not is not a conversation I'm capable of having right now.

BUT with the approval of my writing partner, I'm culling the orphan poems out of the rubble of the scripting process and starting the new book. The working title that came to mind was "strange fire" but 30 seconds of research shows that to be the name of an early Indigo Girls album -- not that there's anything wrong with that, but I usually prefer my allusions and outright thieveries to be more obscure than that. Anyway, the sections at this early early stage look to be:

section 1: chasing the rabbit (the search for connection)
section 2: equality takes to the road (story poem series personifying the Big Vague qualities -- equality, liberty, truth, etc.)
section 3: hero

personifying the big vague qualities, you say? what the hell is that about? let me explain. no, let me sum up (Princess Bride allusion, get it. Norman Lear. Anyway...)

one of my Big Bright Ideas for the show was for each of us to choose a quality or two to personify -- for example, the one I'm pasting here personifies equality:

sick of faking it

equality takes to the road with a bandanna
tied to a stick, hitchiking her way
to a small town in Texas
where she can sip tequila in a bar
anonymously

the trucker says she looks kinda
familiar, like he's seen her someplace
before. equality nudges the dark glasses closer
to her face, mumbles I've been around,
don't think we've ever met though

equality's in a truck halfway through Arkansas
before anybody misses her, starts looking around
at the base of drinking fountains
and in bathroom stalls

pretty soon things start falling apart. with equality
soaking up the sun by a motel pool in Texarkana,
growing alarmingly dark, justice
works overtime trying to take up the slack,
happiness picks up an extra shift

scientists scramble to clone equality
from the hair in her drain, find the DNA
doesn't match -- which explains
a lot – a grand jury investigation
finds authentic equality bones buried
in modern-day Georgia
with indian remains dating back
to the 1700s. marks on the skull hint at foul play,
but the report is misfiled by a white house aide
and never released.

equality takes up work as a cocktail waitress
just outside Waco. learns to cuss in Spanish
from the busboys who comment behind her back
at the strange metallic nature of her laugh.

*****

so basically justice, equality, etc. all pack up and take off for parts unknown, and the story goes from there.

inspiration: Stephen Dobyns' "Pallbearers Envying the One Who Rides" as well as Roger's "Truth was born in India" poem.

Dobyns does metaphor like nobody does metaphor, in my humble opinion. Have you read "white pig?" OH MY GOD. run, do not walk, to: http://www.contemporarypoetry.com/dialect/poetry/dobynswhitepig.html

I also stole from this book the habit of titling poems by pulling strange phrases out of juxtaposed lines or phrases.

Back to my point: in "Pallbearers," Dobyns chooses a hero, this Heart character, who is at once an actual organ heart and a human thing wandering around in search of... self? fulfillment? something highly human, in any case. And it resolves the need (my need) to leave the first person for a bit, to have a hero, a main character -- but the fact that this main character is also something other than human makes everything function on more than one level.

Example:

The Dark and Turbulent Sea
by Stephen Dobyns

Sailboat, sailboat - so Heart counts the ships at sea
in order to raise his thoughts above matters of flesh.
Heart is at the beach in his red swimsuit and nearby
on towels or tossing balls in the air are abundant
examples of female dazzle. Often Heart is comforted
by the waves' regulation, the distant line of watery
horizon, and the air with its mixed aspects of seafood,
salt and sweat. But here at the beach Heart is no closer
to the sea's soothing sway and resultant philosophical
reflection than on a city street. Lolling and frolicking
nymphs, pink flesh, and half-bared breasts, consume
his vision and so in desperation Heart counts the ships
at sea - sailboat, sailboat - in hopes he'll be restored
to calm. This for Heart enacts life's essential problem-
the distant vista with its philiosophical paraphernalia
is disturbingly hidden by the delights of the foreground.
Why for instance, mull over mortality when a bevy
of young ladies is engaged in a bosomy bout of volleyball
just a few feet away. Jiggle, jiggle thinks Heart, it leads
to trouble. Sad to say, he hasn't thought of Kierkegaard
all day. Heart is even hesitant to swim or take a nap lest
he miss some beauty adjust a strap or hitch her halter up.
As for the dark and violent sea it's just a distraction, easily
ignored; moral issues, highbrow notions - all forgotten.
This is in answer to a question asked the next day by a man
in his car starting through his tempest-streaked windshield
at the wind pummeled beach: Why's that guy sitting there
grinning? Heart's having a picnic, even though it's storming.
Raindrops run down his neck. Heart stares at the waves disappearing
into the fog and feels able at last to see what's there in peace. And what's that?:
What lies ahead and what always has been. All the immutable whys and wherefores.
But now Heart's distracted once again. Beneath the sand he has found a
polka dotted bikini top. What amazing luck! Heart presses it to his lips,
then folds it neatly in his basket. Is he aware of the wintry weather's
fierce attack? Guess not.

*****

This is far from my favorite poem from the book, but I don't have the book here because I'm in Los Angeles and everything I love is in NY. That of course is an overstatement, but certainly the great majority of my books are there, including this one.

In any case, you can see from this that if you substitute just a person, just He, it loses a great deal of its oomph as a poem ($40,000 in debt for grad school, and I'm still saying oomph. sigh.)

And imagine (if you've not read the book yet) already being engaged with Heart, knowing some things about Heart and his trials and desires.

Anyway, my hope is to take it in another direction and use a set of such characters. It may dissolve into irreparable hokiness, in which case I'll regret posting this and go in another direction altogether. But it just might keep me sane for a while. And isn't that the bulk of the point anyway.