May 01, 2012
Jay's poem to me today
light pours
liquid gold
into our home
like wedding bands
and honeysuckle
brightening our ways
May first dawning
and life renews.
with his symbol signature: a heart to the 10th power
April 27, 2012
on poem on A-O, Rube Goldberg, and languid process
Group Members
A Hanan Alshikhabobakr
Inho Yong
Alexandros Psomopoulos
B Katherine Kirby
Sidra Alam
Lauren Milisits
Mita Yun
C Dan Glaser-Garbrick
Neil Abcouwer
Vansi Vallabhaneni
D Ryan Oksenhorn
Farjad Zaim
Matt Stewart
E Richard Ha
Elle Allen
Alexander Lam
F Wilson Pei
Mark Sun
Sang Tian
G Justin Wang
Nico Zeuallos
James Allen
H Daiki Itoh
Albert Yoewono
Grant Strimel
I Kee Young Lee
Andrew Willig
Chris Hsu
J Benjamin Shih
Alex Munoz
Margaret Toebes
K Yi Huo
Valerie Gonzalez
Samuel Cheng
L Mustafa Yigt Bilgen
Melissa Mann
Amos Yuen
M Trevre Cusma
Spencer Krause
Dan Yang
N Mike Mu
Siddharth Soundararajan
Sylvia Han
O Zane Hintzman
Kevin Luo
Maitreyee Palkar
this reaction will begin when it reaches me
April 23, 2012
The faintest
sound of Handel threw the static out
the window, cracked a bit for circulation
March 23, 2012
going blind
in order two
keep recognizing sounds
on the air we
are breathing
order recognizing the air
in keep on
are two sounds we
breathing
in two
keep sounds
on we
breathing
March 14, 2012
Jay writes me poems many mornings.
Last night before lights out, I requested Jay
stay home this morning, us remaining
in bed until 11 AM, listening
to LPs of 1960s and 70s music. I woke to this poem
from him:
a sky the color
of turning vinyl
this morning in the last track
of winter.
slow the world
to 78,
and let me stay with you through every album groove,
turning, turning over,
turning, turning over.
(followed by his symbol to me: a heart to the 10th power)
March 09, 2012
no peace
now, but rain falling tells me there is
peace, and sleep to hear your dreams.
March 08, 2012
are we
separated
by pain brushing
near expensive exclusions
are you nearer than I know
plainly seeing miles of two
many chairs between
March 06, 2012
February 28, 2012
February 27, 2012
house light
is as much height of surfaces as
window dressing shades (10) day close
night eyes in the lids ask belong who (20) can
sleep sing lashes wicking water sifting salt
into dreaming (30) less light through
deep breathing stopping several
times in the night (41) calling
God for life until house
light flickers off (50)
February 25, 2012
love notes
quiet squares of papers fluid
as your thoughts in
several lines morning
poems loving from yourself
born seeing glory
rise.
You are brave.
You are.
Thank you
for going outside when the elderly man was
disoriented, calling "Help me! Someone help me!", during what was
for him a flashback to war days, enemy attack.
Your eyes were bright
and determined, smooth as foxes, you
stole to the door and swift opened
it in the darkness, at 3 in the morning, stealing low
steps toward the street. There could have been gunfire for all
we knew, cowering in the dark rooms of our warm waking, fearing
the door you opened to the outside, and the elderly man, maybe shot,
staggering from being lost without his youth to see how brave
he'd been.
February 17, 2012
astrology
will bring light
in a paragraph of
thoughts connected
by charts our eyes
ride through spacing
days our entry into
paths now seen as then
tomorrow planting
where
to place the sun.
computer not.
i let the house accumulate
the earth brought in on feet
and wings and air we breathe
is rising from our graves this
day awake unplugged.
It will be hell
to go
back to paradise, guarded fire
keeps her turned to thorns
and swollen abdomen,
womb case open
arms for ever lasting tears sip
comfort cool, or
warm, delirious
sobering life.
February 16, 2012
words in the mouth of
a critic directing
fowl, staging~s word-
less air