If you dig poetry (& really, how could you resist it?) Sitwells. Sunday. September 30. 7:30. (all strung-out on alliteration) is the place to be.
Consider the following:
A boat toward an orgy of waves outranks anchor, so we are far from the field
green detects and takes. Marked card of a field.
We’ll catch nothing this way.
When the sky finds its footing there will be
nothing left standing. Nothing
left to fly-away like things we want to have.
a kind of residue,
half what you’ve collected
half what’s always been.
ages, species, we’d find us
birds of a feather
you are the silver
lining in my cloud, emu
we flock together
But closeness is pain. Where did I begin
and where did they end? Somewhere
around the third tune
Skull-kept, three modes of mind wander like radio.
That jade blue of your eyes: a risk in three cities
forever through trees
and briars—but why break
cobwebs as I watch?
Crescendo, shh and hum, went round until
I lost my breath, lay down.
Not long until morning comes
like the squid that flashes electric blue
when from out of nowhere,
the parakeet chirps like a lion:
O emerald, forgive me,
--Kristi Maxwell*Evan Commander*Brett Price*Sophia Kartsonis*Caleb Adler*Lesley Jenike*Cynthia Arrieu-King*Joshua Butts*Erica Dawson*Jillian Weise*Matt Hart