(Scott has some of the answer but it's too neat, tidy, removed. This is messy.)

Eight more weeks:
Museen Koeln
Muschis Modezimmer (for O Mondieu!)

A Boat About A Poem

All the men I've ever loved are living

with me suddenly. This one has your mouth,

lush drag of lip, that one your olive skin.

And this your sidelong look, and that

your throat, your laugh, your hand.

And you--deep V of hair, light

crises of your eyes, the way

you settle me.



The rain racks barricades

around the house.

It nails us in. We're soldiers

at a border post,

cradled in air, in metal, in leaf.

It's raining inside too, cascading

down the steps of stairs.

I rain. So do you.



There's nothing to do.

I strap and unstrap my shoes.

Fill up the sinks and empty them,

shower, wash the clothes.

I know nothing about boats,

their congress with the sea and wind.

Nothing about taut line.

Nothing of poetry.

~From Nelson
& the Huruburu Bird by Mairead Byrne. Another interview here. Her Blog.

(thank you)

...

Sandra Kantanen's Black Landscapes were in my dreams this morning. Ingmar Alge reminds me of Helena's landscapes.