Two people are sitting at a table
in the afternoon, it is winter
and cold outside, dark in the room

She is dizzy and sad
from sipping the flat beer
of her own voice

He is like a stranger
who just blew in
she knows, if a man is sand
those who walk through
the desert are men

He is thinking of a stone
that flies in the dew
of the moonlight, an easy
thing for a sad man to do

I wonder if it was night
and they left together for separate
beds in different rooms

Would he think of her dress
falling down her waist,
or would she be in the jungle
making plans from the enemy's sleep

In a place like this, together,
looking into a table
wet from its own darkness,

What do they need,
what can they say?

Dry ****** are more important than the lives of a few dozen brats.

I announce my presence & all my fans clutch their chests in fear for
the ******* who run to ***** gynecologists for a cervical pap smear

Sleek dark hair
Highlights of auburn, color of fall
Stern lips
A look of austerity in the dark russet eye
Skin lighter than my own
The smaller wrist
Large eyes
Faint deepening crow's feet
Nursing knowledge
Small, short, slight, petite, and strong
Maternal vanguard
Matriarchal
Beautiful and earthly
Scorpionic elusiveness
Her unused canvas
Frequent Homegoods purchased
Shifts decor in the livingroom like a Feng Shui practitioner
Laughs at the absurdity of modern horror movies
Smells like bath wash and too much perfume
Smells of my childhood
Smells of my innocence
Paperbacks of Hugo and Austen in boxes in the basement
Paperbacks of The Symposium and a biography of Marx in the basement
Secretly likes to cook
Culinary explorer
Gastronomically open
Culinary door opener
Very little circle of friends
Outspoken
Austerity on the small mouth
Austerity in the small mouth
Conviction in her voice
Soft graphite in her voice
Has a lisp sometimes
The slight overbite(?)
Immigrant parent
Unnaturalized citizen
Reminds me of fall
Reminds me of everything
Reminds me of very little at once
Life-teacher, one of many
Protective
Over-protective
Pushy
The way her hand moves on her tablet
The way her voice sounded during a lecture when I was a child
The way she used to hug
Closet full of shoes and clothes she rummages through when she's going out
Meticulous cleaner
The way her voice sounded when she tried to make sense of me
The way her voice sounds
...

In the face
of radical Christianity,
a devout pagan stands.

Where religion
aspires to govern,
spirituality
must voice its protest.

"One nation, under God..."
turns out to be
easily divisible.

All is not forgiven
when wrapped
in flag and cross.

This poem a futile gesture,
message lost amidst
the knee-jerks.

So long
as speech is free,
it must be said.

Jesus was a
great, holy man;
Herod was the governor.

For God's sake...
stop trying to turn
Jesus
into Herod.

Andi Balise combined a half page of a short story, “Thanks Going Without Saying” by Liz Balise, with half a page of an essay by Klee, “On Modern Art”, from a book called Modern Artists on Art, 10 Unabridged Essays, edited by Robert L. Herbert. With some small edits and line-breaks comes this miracle of a poem:

Painting a Function Different

I peek out over the railing of reality’s magic
Beyond the porch-floor
Minerva hangs her wash
making the invisible visible
Eighty two and three quarters deaf
she doesn’t notice  
But this is, in fact, reality
Has always been this way—
Bent and bird-like existence  
Balanced on two twigs—always busy—

Her task, is the ******* of space  
Cutting coupons, crushing aluminum cans, ironing
The three phenomena which I must....

Things no one notices—
climbing on the abstract surface of a picture
Switching the curtains  
God! I wish from the infinity of space..she wouldn’t…!

It figures that—
Rusty, her cat, is weaving in fortune or misfortune  
I try to fix them—
Her ankles now
And she curses at accidental quality
from the corner of her mouth
which has only one form
Clothespin or cigarette?  
Long johns and animals and men in heaven
and bureau scarf and sheets—all, non-infinite deities
surround us translucent, contained
  
I decide what to get for her birthday—

We are good friends
through painting a function different

For me?
Predestined necessity.

Minerva?
forgets her manners
and eats like a survivor—

Thanks going without saying.