Tennessee Williams

The Wine-Drinkers

The wine-drinkers sit on the porte cochère in the sun.
Their lack of success in love has made them torpid.
They move their fans with a motion that stirs no feather,
the glare of the sun has darkened their complexions.

Let us commend them on their conversations.
One says “oh” and the other says “indeed.”

The afternoon must be prolonged forever, because the night
will be impossible for them.
They know that the bright and very delicate needles
inserted beneath the surfaces of their skins
will work after dark–at present are drugged, are dormant.

Nobody dares to make any sudden disturbance.

One says “no,” the other one murmurs “why?”
The cousins pause: tumescent.
What do they dream of? Murder?
They dream of lust and they long for violent action
but none occurs.
Their quarrels perpetually die from a lack of momentum
The light is empty: the sun forestalls reflection.

Tennessee Williams

“Luxury is the wolf at the door and its fangs are the vanities and conceits germinated by success.

When an artist learns this, he knows where the danger is.”

– Tennessee Williams

Opening soon an original play

Cast includes:

Jack Heller, Tamara Braun

Louise Davis, Robert Standley

and Lisa Thayer

Produced by Janice Allen

Directed by Sal Romeo

April 13-May 20

Sidewalk Studio Theatre

4150 Riverside Drive

Burbank, CA 91505

Tickets $20

Call for Reservations

(800) 838-3006


Tennessee Williams

Blue Song

I am tired.
I am tired of speech and of action.
If you should meet me upon the
street do not question me for
I can tell you only my name
and the name of the town I was
born in-but that is enough.
It does not matter whether tomorrow
arrives anymore. If there is
only this night and after it is
morning it will not matter now.
I am tired. I am tired of speech
and of action. In the heart of me
you will find a tiny handful of
dust. Take it and blow it out
upon the wind. Let the wind have
it and it will find its way home.

Tennessee Williams

“An Apple For Teacher” by L. K. Thayer


an apple for teacher

who had a big secret

(we loved his magic)

and knew all along
how his ‘evil’ lurked
through the shower doors

it was swept aside

one, two, three
one, two, three

like a ballet

with the leaves and the dust
goblins spewing their
angry dirt– forth

innocent young boys creeping

in and out

he was the warlock
the vigilante of theatrical
nuance, the blood sucker


a tinge
of fine distinction.
he had a black Victorian house
oh so enviable

so ‘Tennessee Williams.’

he was a genius, a deviant,
a mad perpetrator of wrong doing,

but it was the theatre

and it felt oh,

so harmless then…

until they kick

the chair away

and you’re left


and the theatre

goes dark

L. K. Thayer

All Rights Reserved

© 2009