clapping for the brightness and bravery

molly waking up and giggling
on the couch and i joke
later about the action party
living up to its name
this shirt carries more stories than i have
the words to tell
i write on the form
for the two itinerant quilters (installation/interaction)
the four people in the queue in front of us
with an array of cards gridded out on the floor
code names one of them replies when joe asks
the name of the game
the joyous shock/disbelief of watching
the days and hours of a person’s life unspool
on the screen and then as the credits roll
she appears, real life, on stage
and everyone in the audience is on their feet
clapping for the brightness and bravery
of sonita
switzler hall joe says outloud
and we both laugh at the sound
before we divide and head off
to our separate cinemas
it’s hard to remember brett story, director
of prison in twelve landscapes says, but prisons
didn’t always exist. they’re only 200 years
old. we used to live without them.

a stack of aluminum foil pans
filled with jasmine rice and veggie curry and chicken curry
delivered to the volunteer lounge
susan’s mulit-colored cascading wig and silver
glitter-stickered eyes again on the
other end of the couch and how
yesterday she said i don’t even know this person
(to her friend, referring to me), and i’m
telling her everything

on london street stepping out of the car
the sound of fiddles and guitars
spilling down the road and as we approach
1118, the view into living room
framed by window: the swirl and spin
of square dancers laughing and
glowing under the light


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