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The sky took the morning. Birds tore small holes in the quiet.

This poem is the end of a series of 1997-era poetry about seeing my friend Kathryn Medland after a few years. She was an amazing friend who I always adored for her love and lust for life. She honored me by featuring the work as part of her wedding reception's party favor and printed my words along with her other faves (e.e. cumming, etc.) and offering them to her wedding guests. It was high honor to me.

In 1997, I was apparently a surrealist poet.

Mark and I keep Kayaks at Jack's Boats and since I was writing too much about girls and about psychobabble, I thought it prudent to allow my inner naturalist to surface.

The first rain brought all the leaves to the slick city streets.

I see that I wrote a lot of love poems when I was in my 20s

Poem published Dec 29, 2002 - 09:26 PM

This is another of the poems that Kathryn Medland printed out to share with her wedding party. It was my biggest artistic honor to be there, like placemats, sitting at random table-settings. To be commingled and cojoined with the work of e.e. cummings.

I guess I was a surrealist poet