of being underwater. of error. of swimming and craft. an elastic wanting...a drift...an ink black wave or spill...tipping upwards. in our sand-buildings, our little huts. I feel like laughing, but I can't.

I am like a full moon in my belly. I don't want anyone to die. the feral things -- it's all our fault. During the day you can't see in and a night you can't see out. the moon hangs like an axe, a sad axe, an unfinished question. we abandon our companions and open wounds, prisons. we say get a grip but we mean let go.

The Poetry Booth

On Sunday, we went to Los Angeles and staged The Poetry Booth near the corner on Sunset and Western. This was part of the Los Angeles Road Concerts. It was a really good day.

www.flickr.com mdetorie's Poetry Booth | Sunset Blvd. | Los Angeles Road Concerts | Sept. 18, 2011 photoset