Thursday, July 29, 2010



I know you,
I want to know you.

I recognize you,
your mannerisms comfort

me. We must already
know one another, for I

expect the skin
on your face to behave

as it does, your
vocal cords to resonate

like they do,
as cables stretched by

an elevator’s
weight. See how we are

each other’s
authors. As choreographers

create on a dancer,
I observe your musculature

and movement
to show you what I see in you.


  1. Each other's authors... so very true. Gradually rewriting each other's existences, making it better by the very fact of being there.

  2. Where do you get these pictures?

    The world thinks writers hate and fear each other (probably out of jealousy). This intelligent poem reveals the secret: writers genuinely like other writers.

    The juxtaposition of the picture adds a spookier vibe, and I can't help thinking of The Golden Compass.


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