Upstairs, mounted on the wall

Photo booth shots and our poetry together on a wood-framed screen that's likely older than we are.

----

teeth:
1) a liquid protection;
2) a water stronghold behind circular force
3) impenetrable history

----

coral
shadows
meeting
solid
weight

----


showing
frigid
thought
throughout
thorough
heightened
blizzard

----

learning
musical
sight
against
liquid
Andalusian
fog

----


obscure
salt
unveil
heavy
sound

----

clear
Pie Slice
uncover
violent

----


fire
summer
points
worldly
glass
all over again

Declarations aside, this is a time for change.

With all the loss around, it's terribly easy to lose sight of other special things.

The ridges from water damage on my hundred-year-old living room floor.

Stubble on the face of a friend, quietly happy with his world.

A surprise Frosty delivery accompanied by laughter and poignant words.

My dad's favorite hymn blaring, energized by the first best banjo player (who died today).

Evening call from an old lover and friend, someone else who can cry for the death of my favorite poet (who died today).

I'll fly away, Oh Glory 
I'll fly away; (in the morning) 
When I die, Hallelujah, by and by, 
I'll fly away (I'll fly away). 


What to make of death, friends? I write and write, dream and wake up sweaty and confused, and only the dirt and tiny buds on a gardenia make sense.

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.