i’ve never before typed on a typewriter. i’ve only imagined how the shift must feel. How the thoughts acquire weight and sound.

Well some thoughts already have weight and sound enough just from clanging around in my head. Or on pages tucked between covers piled onto shelves locked into rooms.

The smell of green and sailing, curious people remind me of my two small cats. They are sisters, and love each other dearly.

To all the poets of New York: Good luck and godspeed.


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