bonus jen hofer poem!

Read a poem by another poet written
on the same day:

adieu

a delicate balance
hip to hip
a hand in a pocket, a sidelong glance
nominally yours suspended, up-ended

minutes extend briefly, flamelessly
beyond alphabets, what is there
hello, she said, and walked away like a stone
trembling but only on the inside

recognition was a ditty they'd sang before
as on a ship, but less tippy
cities having few, normally, of the qualities
of a barge, while slant-wise
the building rippled seductively

as if in a trance
as if in a temple
as if in time
as if industrial
poco a poco is how it's done
and undone jauntily over again