In one of my early visual journals I have this poem written. I remember how funny I thought it was when I came across it in a book I was reading. I read it aloud to a friend. We roared with laughter. You have to have a certain level of appreciation for your own past or current paranoia in order to like it. It appeared the other day in Writer's Almanac and with no one around except Buck Moss to listen, I read it to him. Sit still for a minute. I'll read it to you.
We Who Are Your Closest Friends
we who are
by Phillip Lopate
More summer reading. So good! The east coast Moss troupe and I retire to the patio each early evening for reading & cocktails. Yesterday found us here. A little known jewel of a park where we lolled about on blankets & pillows reading and picnicking until early evening.
The weather has been mild and pretty close to perfect. Happy summer dreaming from LA...to wherever in the big wide world you happen to be (!)