On Collaboration

Making a ritual of hanging out, a few hours roaming Pike Place, Ophelia’s, BLMF, Lamplight, arranging our selfs to the light of diner’s and dark bars. Different perspectives of shared space casting objects between us.

As if I am skipping ahead in the line for knowledge, learning what would have taken me years to figure out. Becoming fountains of words, we already have the indentations for them to land. Arranging, turning the phrase, making a shift the other has to deal with.

Writing to music: C On Both Side, Angles Without Edges, Meet Me In Brooklyn. Reading out loud: First Party at Ken Kesey’s, And Then The Weather Arrives, grabbing lines from: Apollinaire, Baraka, Koch, Spicer, Berrigan, Sappho, Myles. Securing each other on the page.

Letting it all in.