Kathleen Reichelt & Randee Silv

Coincidental Colloquy

we are talking through things: one earring glass button rocks from toberymory thread undoing itself worn out attachment one box housing yellow receipts another box coffins a ring. green birthstone paperclips keys to doors no longer used. where did you go? where will these things show up again, a face at the back door, pottery floating from earth, undead after all. broken zipper in a small blue dish, bobby pin, 3/4 inch screw, $2.25 in nickels, dimes, two subway tokens and a plastic cap. folded matches, negatives from film. how do things resolve? what do we do but release questions let them fall or rise or be and see what they become in someone else's hands. (k)

retaking: minutes push. hours haul. sharp turns split chalked notices hosed down on schedule. leaving vs. withdrawal. dismissing vs. joining. fisted chants pivot blurred cellophane membranes. demolishing blinds audiences captivated within mirrored symphonies. i hear the current rise higher and higher. i hear thundering embankments splinter. i hear downstream murmurs transcribing flurries. spider legs & octopus tentacles bake in red palm oil corralled in ripened harbors. she dreamt about thinking of nothing. shattering hinged by buckled straps. wheelbarrows, alleys, trampolines keep unfurling keep digging keep jumping. coincidences noted. (r)

high jinks: rattling tin can collecting echoes on a narrow street of buildings three stories high face to face. she is counting a river's name between each kick. distracting her heavy pause reply. fingers suspended over keyboard eyes scanning moonless night. wind too tired to pass into this room, through the small window gap propped open with last night's tomato can. metal rings of jupiter bouncing back the street light spell. summer buzzing metal boxes dripping to the sidewalk below. she counts kicks for ten blocks at least. makes a wish. hears a dog bark. waits for it to break. (k)

traps: mud. rubbish. dirt. souvenirs can always be bought. Inventions can be invented. outlined images gain momentum. appearances penetrate high up on the hill. a square, a rectangle, stage the same vertical cut short. twisted wire blackboard ramblings bake into ticking pendulums swallowed by chattering sideshows left to graze at a distance. eruptions overflow as promised. ousting gravity soothes sluggish intent. flashbacks unreliable. one attached. two others about to leap. she asked if silence was accurate. courtyards. woodsheds. i went in. (r)

grackles: rings are sorted between children. blackbirds carry prizes to collect. we watch from behind glass walls their rummage between trees. leave the room when light shines in our eyes and hear death thud from another room. his reflection came too late. flying to land on a chair, he lays there with eyes open. I reach for the shovel and return to two dozen grackles on a wire. tails shaking dance. gathered to gather. in each other all along. there is no cross. no certainty. they elaborate. we move from the other side and they sweep themselves away. (k)

pointless: blood on napkin. paradise on shirt. a magician’s dove flies from a traveling pushcart. targeted. jammed. unborn rags birth from her belly. strange vanishings traded on crossword puzzles. i let each out of its paper bag. checkered sequins trash fake foam (dark clouds) circling poles. perspiring gaps widen a 60 second lull. move as it moves. turn as it turns. sweet acorns hidden inside hornet nests coax out circulating riddles. vastness leaves my body. stampedes lock arms. widespread blindness is already upon us. (r)

Kathleen Reichelt runs an artist residency in the Thousand Islands, Canada, focusing on film, stage, poetry performance and visual art. Reichelt's work has been exhibited and performed in Toronto, Montreal, Paris and New York, and published by Arteidolia, Bone Bouquet, great weather for MEDIA and Three Rooms Press, NY.

Abstract painter Randee Silv writes likes she paints. Her wordslabs have appeared in Posit, Bone Bouquet, Maudlin House, Sensitive Skin & Urban Graffiti. Her chapbook, Farnessity has been published by dancing girl press (2018). She’s editor of the journal swifts & slows: a quarterly of crisscrossings.
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