our real names

If I could open the window 
   and find you stirring the sky 
   till it looks like a collage,
If you could bring me magic 
   that I might dress myself with rain,
If we could listen to our shadows 
   on a night picnic, both of us 
   most mad and moonly,
If we could allow ourselves 
   to be visited by words, joywriting 
   with controlled abandon,
In poem sound and song we would 
   discover our real names.

Poem title from chapter 10 of poemcrazy by Susan G. Wooldridge.


The poem above is made up of chapter titles from Susan Wooldridge’s poemcrazy book. Below is my second response to Monty Vern’s Silver Lining June collaboration, in which the last words in each line are the key words, in order, of the given quote. Peace to our s!


[“It is in the smell of an avocado blossom, and in the true passion of a kiss” from “The Unnamable River” by Arthur Sze]

The Senselessness of Long Covid

~after Arthur Sze

Now you must accentuate sight, having lost smell.
Though slices of tomato, yellow pepper and avocado
Masquerade on a blue plate as a festive blossom,
Artistry is a pretty poor substitute for taste, it’s true.
No wonder you consider them with little passion,
Even a slight revulsion, like an elderly uncle’s kiss.