Erica Hunt - Mar 11, Iyengar II & I

After a year of learning how much we took connection for granted, then discovered new forms of connection, here’s another possibility. The connection of author to reader, reader to author. Is this a two-way street? Just a thought…

Reader we were meant to meet

and not disappear in the dredging

the edited ledgers omit antiphonal groans

Reader, you were meant to be legible

even in the failure to communicate

your will to resist snatching defeat

from the jaws of easy victory the truth slips in as a figure of speech.

Reader step into my room

this page faces you . ..

what will I miss if you blink

what blots the ink pens and hems the imagination

what hides in the brackish

back stories hostile to the wobbled word,

what resists being pinned to the truth?

Reader, we are carbon, and more

the exact degree of life is inestimable—

some of us chew ice and others suck chalk

some crave salt before there is savor

others can never be too full of sugar or bourbon

sucker punched and stunned by death's pugnacious brawl

into dream time and song, extending both ends

night into day.

Touch, reader, we were meant to touch

to exchange definitions and feed the pulse of

language. I promise if you step in

it will propel you, me, it:

topple distinctions

ease doubt and belief, and

all that in between.