THE HOLLYWOOD DEATH OF JON-ERIK HEXUM
And the fact that blanks, though limited,
have a range of bullets,
these two things were learned,
that, and death, though customary,
is never strained, as are some when obligated,
when covering men under fire,
and, ever repeating, never tires of ammunition,
flashes, as does inspiration or wit.
The phony gun beside your head has hit,
a trivia of sound has impregnated your last brain.
Is it because being perfect you jested,
killed yourself mockingly?
The kangaroo substance of success bested
by a director, resigned, who, having worked for ages,
is never impressed, stormy, or vain
enough with a scene to alter it or intervene.