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.