Hello and welcome to earth

[bow with your hands pressed together near your heart.]

[Oh, and if they offer a hand, flipper, tentacle, or anything else to shake, shake it. If they want to hug, hug.]

here in the vastness of space

[throw your arms open wide and look around]

here where seasons and tides are gifts of convention
where time and distance are fluid invention
where music is solace and sunlight is grace

we breathe poetry
we can’t help ourselves

[improv a little something to accompany the energy of words: maybe bounce, dance, spin in a circle, or hum something]

we can’t help ourselves

here we fall in love with a face just because it’s a face
here place is a being with exquisite taste
here we fall on our asses laughing

drop to our knees weeping

to remember the feel of soil’s warm embrace


[indicate the immediate area around yourself, at least: it’s up to you how far your here goes]


“Why poetry?” makes little sense as a question

poetry is the air we breathe

so our questions tend, instead, to be variations on this one:

[Shut your eyes and breathe one long breath slowly and deeply. Then open your eyes and look into their eye, eyes, or eye equivalents.]

our questions are variations on this one:

How can we breathe more deeply—right here, right now—together?

[then shut up, poet, and listen]