He spoke. She listened. I heard.

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Phebe Schmidt

David Samuelstern

Fiona Osborne

Phebe Schmidt

Jessica Wohl

 State of the art

That is the question

Listened to Patti talk of Whitman

Lines he wrote to all future poets

He with them in mind

Her with him in mind

A life of mostly poverty

Always following the authentic me

He spoke. She listened. I heard.

Afraid people are scared on my behalf

Kindred souls know the need

The way she spoke of Morrison

My understanding felt like sin

A cut out paper doll

Folded into her figure I danced in step

Carried this bible in my arms

Clenched to it for comfort

I'm looking for my creative tribe

The way I feel and know alive

I sat with old ladies in Fillmore square

Nylon knee highs

Church gossip

Wandering eyes to passerby's

Young boys in low pants

Girls with high pitched laugher

I wondered what they thought of me

Sitting on the pavement

Swaying to rhythm

Feeling the crash of the waterfall

Rainbow leaves scattered

Trying is too much effort

I listened to the jazz man play

Heard a new story this way

Get your hands moving into play