Bus Stop on the Diagonal Line

Two people talk 

while two people eavesdrop 

while two people record

the conversation.

[LSS, 3/7/26] 

 Infrathin part 3

First Poet: Dictionary pages painted/marked with India ink. Then placed between sheets of paper vellum/tracing paper and stitched all over to hold the layers together. Pages then cut into 1” squares. One page of squares restitched into a chain is 58” long.

Second Poet: Wow Duchamp died in 1968, we were all alive at the same time.

[LSS & RK, 3/7/2026]

 

Stop, Don’t Stop

First Poet: The eye wanders over an unfinished work of art and hopes that it will never be completed.

Second Poet: yet there are innumerable rest stops along the way

bitter coffee in chipped mugs

ordering "today's special"

pretending to fight over the last slice of rural pie

standing in a dusty gravel parking lot beneath a rising moon

the inescapable scent of freshly mown alfalfa perfuming the night air

cattle rustlers you only hear about

lonely couples leaning against pickup trucks

atypical country swing music

sawdust across dance floors

coyotes prowling where the streetlights end

 

the last cherry Lifesaver from a roll is a sign

that finishing is okay and you can say

‘this is my stop, let me off here”

 

[LSS & RK, 3/6/2026]

Interior View

When there is nothing left to think

about today, I draw a picture 

of my new titanium hip. It comes out 

looking like Camano Island. 

After that, I find a stale fortune 

cookie under the refrigerator.  

“You are/are not an island,” 

it says. “Circle one.” 

There are no lucky numbers.

[LSS, 3/1/26] 

Fortune Cookie

mine had winning lottery numbers

I paid $2 for a Lotto

nothing matched

I made tea with your shredded letter

it played mumblety-peg with my digestive system

checked the mailbox three times

slipped the mail carrier a twenty

he handed me a new patient flyer

for a local dentist named Cookie Poe

I chewed on that the rest of the day

until I cracked a wisdom tooth

unfortunately

and she had to put me under

 

[RK, 1/11/2026 ]

Morning Report

A wall of paper fortunes and threads, 

a letter shredded, made into tea,

the dream of order slipped 

into every cup in my cupboard.

I’m as happy as I’ve ever been.

[LSS, 10/27/25, 10:27 a.m.]

 Infrathin part 2 (a dialogue between day and dreams)

First Poet – The New México trip reminded me of the importance of being a part of an artists’ group. We stayed at a ranch that was once an artists’ retreat. Huxley, O’Keeffe, Lawrence. All stayed there from time to time. It made me thankful for my local art groups and our writing project.

Second Poet – I just had a long dream about a multi-artist art opening in a huge gallery. My old friend Tim was the star of the night - they were taking his work off the walls after selling the items, and then putting up more of his work. I felt myself illuminated by his star glow. It was a great show and a great crowd.

All the artwork was meaningful and amazing.

Since the stroke I have the most incredible and lengthy dreams

FP – Dreams are a gift. I look forward to falling asleep after reading at night. I love dreaming.

I never have nightmares.

SP – I believe that

FP – Bizarre dreams, yes, lots of those.

SP – I so wanted that gallery dream to be real

FP – How would you describe “meaningful?”

SP – give me a few minutes on that one

The work was both efficacious and socially relevant without being didactic.

FP – More social than personal in meaning?

SP – It triggered viewers in a positive way

I imagine all social relevance is tied to the personal

let me amend that to 'politically/socially relevant'

FP – Timely. Current. In that direction?

SP – yes, the always evolving social zeitgeist

FP – Got it.

 

[RK 10/24/2025]