two poets two ~~~for Stephen the downstairs poet writes ‘sploring poring over then pouring out to the mantra of rain leaf steady tempo’d sorting through the con fusions of too much and too little picking up and out stitches needled in clumsy re-stitching life with grace the upstairs poet her spinnerets having fiddled pupates in her silken rapt chrysalis and her threads when she breaks forth will connect part to part mentation and imagination plied into yarns to be woven in with the skein of her skin wrapped spirit word as seducer seduced into bearing young line by line in suggestive dress reaching across empty space filling it with audibles song and dance flung in the face of death into the breach where the self whole is questionable and any Other veiled or dim in the flaking mirror the messenger no longer quicksilver though s/he speeds in arcs across the zodiac delivery promised from what delivered we are not privy this one sentence written at large: you cannot score a perfect mererly a passing mark mistakes of knowing only a piece x’d in the margins no rehearsal from what is pieced a show of only one improvised performance that one though wondrous enough