Hi
Hello
To all of you!
It's a hello day
Sending greetings
from all across
No barriers
No lines
A hello for peace
A hello for knowing you
a little more.
A hello from my heart
Accompanied by a smile.

Smudged ink,
Written poems.
No one to think,
No one to know them.

Dabbed on paper,
With permanent marker.
Save them for later,
When times get harder.

Emotions in words,
Feelings in letters.
Someone gets worse,
Someone gets better.

They may be burned,
But not from our hearts.
We may have learned,
But end up scarred.

Poems draw us near,
Poems draw us close.
Stricken with fear,
Lost in our zone.

Only we know their meaning,
Only we know their story.
They keep us dreaming,
They keep us wondering.

We know these words,
We know them by heart.
We hold their worth,
We know their parts.

The Allusionists (Mary Winslow and Jeff Steir)

these two allusionists  **(not illusionists!)

composition is a criminal sentencing, a full-time sensitizing,
a never ending t/rue seeing, recalling, photography by word.

I am a career criminal.  I know.

these two retranslate by digging into word wells and
well hid storage closets under stairs so that we,
the not-in-attendance may envision their sightings with
two hands clutching, comprehending almost better than
the one who is actually there.  

for our version, the one they provide is,
coffee with cream,
scotch with a  beer chaser, tea with honey,
all to be, sipped slow, so
the hot frost on my the chest, infiltrating nostrils,
Vaporub-spreads slow and easy, brainward.  

the allusionists.

the habitual employers of this
specific filter,
(word weavers, I call them behind their backs),
weaving is not in my eternally planned skill set.  

I do so admire their tapestries
that guilt alone demands tribute and obeisance
and this poor imitation.  

I do so admire their tapestries.