for Joel Frye, who loves
“my sharing the marginalia of my life”
<>
the tiny smile in mine eyes’ white *****,
glistens,
my eyes inhabited, as is my
habit,
of your noticings of the what & wherefore
of the “it” of my writing…
the marginalia of life
as you adeptly label them…
touch you, my fingernails ,
sensing the ragged edging,
alternating with the smooth
all is revelational, all is relational,
the irreverent,
the minuscule,
the bytes of super-valued
ordinary
and the
extra-undervalued-ordinaries,
each and both,
elevated by you…
observing me observing you!
living on the margin,
doesn’t mean the unimportant,
the margin is a place,
where our mind’s neuralgia
embrace; where you-receive
my envisioning, feel my marginality’s,
my discrepancies, the odd, that oddly
that makes us even!
and
understanding my fingernails,
are what you’re touching,
my touch, your sensing.
identical, precisely provisioned,
and our invisible envisioning,
with nothing in between running interference,
is everything
finest and fine
the marginalia are,
the margin is the beginnings and
the endings of my myriad words,
the overstuffed SUV of my mind
that you help me to unload!
<§>
Thu Jan 5
5:08 pm
Manhattan
