a poem a day for a year #56

we are almost transported

nearly levitating

from the ground

talking all this


this fever

this creative sickness we have

this gaggle of writers and artists and mad ones

on a concrete patio

in the winter month of love


we always find each other

in freak honey pot traps

always congregate

never stop moving our mouths

letting all the words spill

the comforting ones

about the past

the future

the journey

the insides of our golden hearts



if I had an old super 8 camera

I would have filmed us

like super heros

like John Hughes characters

like angels

standing under the fast moving southern sky

under the moonshine memory


and the end scene perfect

flicker flacker

film grain


highlighting all of our smiles

all of the ways

artists float

just above the ground