Still Covid. Still B.E. Before the Election.
Still October. Hard not to have
every possible symptom of nervous anxiety.
Hard not to wonder what will happen. And to
remember, to constantly remember, how
beautiful this day is, how life, eternally mysterious,
unpredictable, how life is full of people of so many people.
Shirley in the park yesterday
said: How would you feel discussing
the Guiliani penis story with a stranger?
Like this:
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Let me tell you why I'm here, and why I hope you'll join me.
I am here to poem, to play with words, to tell stories when I can, and to ask you for yours. Words are what I love, how I see, and what I say. Words are how I know my life, and how I find my friends. I'm here to ask you to join me. Right here. To send me your stories, and your poems. And to read mine when you can.
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