yasmin & mister. 

i was thinking more about alice notley and i mentioned to sarah how the poem to my father popped in my inbox like somebody read my visceral soul. then she said the last paragraph was a smaller type and i tried to correct it and it would not so i looked again for the poem and only found it on nick sturm's page as a photocopy from the original book and the letters were fuzzy so i copied it and realized my previous version lacked the title too but i left that out again because i didn't want it to be to my father i wanted it to be to me, is that alright, ok. i thought, i wonder if it was tendered specifically to me, like the nefarious political propaganda targeting hapless individuals, but for art. i wrote nick that it hit me like a jolt. art arrow to the heart. anyway r. said that poem was like a rendering of my existential condition in a nutshell (i paraphrase). so i went to powell's and for 4 bones of r.'s credit got another notley, certain magical acts, thinking it will disappoint, that poem in my inbox was probably a singular windfall apple, but wishing to find a poet i can explore like an underland echoing with uncanny familiarity. if it happens that way you'll be sure to hear the echo.