A film maker, one poet (out of two), is turning to performance crafts, sits and lets you alternate looking at this person and thinking, has the floor moved?

It’s wild mist, without much shine and whose staying put is more to the point — dull mist, not gilded enough.

An accomplished film maker blots within mists. Thanks for his or her almost dry touches and for you, your weak calligraphy — placing personality ahead of nature and daydreaming. Literally.

You’re standing up, looking ok despite your sleep work-around to perfection. I’m by your side. On your side.
Mist trickles down rewriting chain letters you refuse to answer. Good for you.

Good for you!