Many blessings upon you as you settle into your new address.
Since that workshop of yours I attended many moons ago, I have been in the practice of what you call "kiss poems". Though this exercise comes as gracefully for me as to be almost involuntary, I disagree with its name, how it implies temporary as fleeting; the breadth of time allowed for a kiss should supercede that of a pair of lips pinching each other it should be amnesia breaking like a fever it should be dodging bullets and finding forgiveness capturing the sun a spinning panorama centered around two people in a busy train station we get closer as the universe drops away with every revolution it's William Blake standing in line at MPI it's long lost friendships it's fond acquaintances reintroduced in a museum after a thousand years it's the accumulating caress of cresting tides it's finding out what's on the other side and staying awhile it's a lazy afternoon to make up for a lifetime it's your song on the radio it's an unyielding hand on a shoulder as a foot leaves a precipice it's, "I'm sorry" it's, "I know" all this said as read should allow for the breadth of a kiss for more, for less
dear Mr. Wint, the breadth of time allowing for a kiss should leave a pair of what was once previously anomalous, identified indefinitely as a singularity
lips like fingerprints forever evident
At the risk of being contentious, I just wanted you to know I wrote a poem, and you're to blame.