Working it out

Wa and I had less-than-stellar weeks.  She came and sat at my kitchen table for a while.  This happened.

The words are just a little too precious to type up.

Butterfly/Jive

Mike & E (and reverse illustration by Markus Shane):

Butterfly
blowing
judgingly
always
aeons
thanks
thiny
lashes

---

Jive
sweltering
surrepticiously
centuries
perfect
meandering
Lush
sands

Vertical/Horizontal

Dusty
earlobes
dye
wholesome
hooks.

(other half)

tired
spoons
scribbles
aged
wings

---

Surly
dark
strand
scooping
snowflakes

(other half)

fully
tied
boots
seizing
shadows


((D & E))

Faricy & IPA

Mike & E hit the Corner and a poetry stride--

Bee
gingerly
February
blows
beneath
blustering
of
dusk.

(reverse)

Because
riverbanks
a
dense
mongoose
glowed
upon
painting.

----

objects
heartily
June
walks
around
windy
toward
afternoon

(reverse)

around
the Colusseum
an
slobbery
egrit
swam
through
a maple tree

---

Merida
strings
blithely
between
37
airplanes
throughout
wary
cardamom

(reverse)

Clapping
underneath
seventy-four
of
cerulean
ginghko
sinking
stout
smashing
wooden.

---

Boulder
skews
crookedly
about
forty-two
jigsaws
after
full
nutmeg

(reverse, and my favorite)

Waving
without
thousands
between
crimson
Ash
breathing
Hazed & Infused
decidedly
lovely

Necessity/urgency

I love looking at these old ripped up strips of paper.  Each pair or trio arose from some quiet or very loud moment when there was clearly no other choice but to collaborate with each other in written commentary of the strangeness of the times.  Surrealist poetry is so much of what I cherish about my close friendships.

Not the least significant to me of these poems is seeing the imprint of spur-of-the-moment writing, how people's hands move steadily when they don't stop to think too hard.  And how sometimes we get on the same page.

Surreal Geography

Wa, D & E strike again:

right now
Chile
patiently awaits unexpectedly
bronze
stop
Meryl Streep
or
home
---

right now
Egypt
is quaintly
helium
epoch
Liza Minnelli
and
home
---

sparkling
precious thing
smoking
slowly
before
your father's
hope chest
---

melting
blue-green twig
sticking
blindly, coarsely
around
your own
derivative history

Poorly Torn

We must have been in a hurry this time.  The papers are ripped up at odd angles and folded haphazardly for this batch:

always
giant
ferociously
dies
orange
whispers

---
calm
growth
strangely
steal
benign
crates

---
Deeply
quaking
inward
womb-like
line

---
cowardly
crossing
into
ripped
fervor