May 27, 2007
My body spoke to me today.
Popping in languages forgotten,
Red in anger that I forgot her,
In plodding one foot in front of the
The other is the myth of stress:
Cure it, fix it, soothe it.
We forget, living is challenge;
We forget we are fragile in flesh.
This flesh, my flesh, your flesh,
Tender in all its survival,
Has words louder then our mouths
Could ever invent. imagine, expunge.
Can you hear them?
October 19, 2006
I have written 18 artists and called one. He said yes. The others I await their reply.
Thank you Mark Esposito! He is the one I called and it was fun to talk to him about my ignorance. In honor of Mark and his spontaneity we are posting one of his photos, possibly almost my favorite. Marks lists a cell phone, an email address that is full, and answers the phone even though I am sure he has no idea where the hell a 402 area code call is coming from. And, when I say; “Hi, my name is Kim Smith.” He didn’t say: “Sure it is.” I hate that, and yes it happens a bit.
I am removing the ignorance and working the problem, as I see it. We can thank Lynda for that.
No poetry tonight.
In the slipstream,
Artist: Mark Esposito