"to say Hello is to see the other person, to be aware of him as a phenomenon, to happen to him and to be ready for him to happen to you" Eric Berne
as I contemplate our poetic streaming
my back hurts a bit from too much reading
today's flow speaks of Courage, and what if
HP is our virtual House of Clay and Promise?
I read your words in black
on a non Oxford White foreground
a sort of a playground
for our cascade of words
unfinished emotions, illusions, strivings
for the gossip of the wind, for the dread and tenderness
of light in our poems
I dare not contemplate the end but
I can envision the theater of absence
there is this hope in the center of our loneliness
at least our dancing words may be seen and tasted
but most important, can touch another
your quirky pseudonyms are not enough to hide
your true colours
I read your poetry with curious eyes and open heart
I would like to forget the worst
is it the spirit, the soul of this pixelated world
is it your sorrow or your joy
your heartbreak or your love
that's gone put the risk into remission
I hope HP gathers enough capitalist auto-affection
for a missed encounter with its own death
we need the capital of language, dreams, fears and tears
to keep humane what it means to be alive