live Urgently ALEC ELLSWORTh
start moving and you might understand the meaning of movement unshackled from your cellular prison, liberation turned inside out or maybe what I meant to say is that to move is just a prefix for meaning start writing and you might stumble upon your voice unbridled unsaddled unhinged and unspoken useful for once, a proverbial pacman gobbling up the decomposting goo left over from a lifetime of education start asking is what I’m doing right now better than sex? or a good book, or a handstand, or storytime with your mother? no near death experience needed thank you very much mine is now, and tomorrow and next tuesday so i’ll pass on the 6.75 an hour don’t try to put a price on my moments start thinking about death and you may discover the urgency of life.
Me and My Jazz Musician SARAh BRidEAu
me and my jazz musician we are six year olds together we are silly fools that invent their own words that have music and dances and games Me and his saxophone candlelight like fire us and our non-linear thoughts that follow each other like a set of jazz riffs me and my jazz musician we are poets who walk awkwardly on slushy sidewalks and hide in subterranean cities we hold a string of abstract thoughts we feed it forever and it never runs out we stretch it for 850 miles he has me in the words I write to him and I have him in the music by which I write we undress ourselves of censures and become nudes by the thoughts that go too far yet never far enough me and my jazz musician we are a poem and a song not yet written but already on perpetual repeat in a repertoire of our favorite songs and a song that burns bright enough to warm me up on cold January nights.
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