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Klinedinst & Heiman – Feb. 16

Richard Manly Heiman and Karen Klinedinst traded art and words. Karen shared this image, entitled “Morning Moon,” with Richard (click image to enlarge):


In response, Richard wrote this poem:

Moon Like a Sun Like a Montage

In that field you scouted Indian fingers
sprouting when snow lichens
faded under cloud light. Shrieks
turned to archeology—stealing
my toothbrush, you exhumed
tubercles, phalanges, every costal
fragment with abiding care. It might be
our own Lucy, I still hear you
call out, in our frozen veldt!

Blur to later, when you laid
your own bones down there
scratched and bitten to the rind,
grimacing moon-ice rings
offering their indifference to
your own defining moment. No one
heard a hammer striking, no report.
No one felt the sudden drop of
dreambird shards on permafrost.

* * * * *

Richard shared this poem with Karen:

Dali at home

On the Costa Brava by the Roman sea
where the peninsula juts
into a small bay with a narrow rocky shore
that’s where fishermen beach their single-masted boats
barely big enough for two. That’s just the place to perch
watch the catches come and go
and stare toward the blue coast past Marseilles
where the jet set plays.

In that lark-tinted sky
most anything can happen. Especially in winter
when the witch-nosed spring-tailed cherubs
flock. When girls in victory robes
meld into frigates and mute swans reflect
a once and future life with trunks
below the jeweled surface.

It’s just the place to let your eye grow wild
soak brine into your soul, twirl hairs
bleat soft and grow your pinions. One by one.
If angel wings take years, well
you have years. Nothing but years, and salt
and red and yellow ochre.

In response, Karen made this image, entitled “Toward the Blue”: