hello, it's winter now. the first grey sun has come, purple in the evening, perpetually foggy. it snowed! a lovely friend hosted a poetry reading in the trees. feeling thankful for the encouragment to focus on nature, as a presence of comfort and love always there. it was a beautiful afternoon, and as our friends gathered in the crisp wind reading laminated papers, ana had hung mirrors on little strings from he trees, and all of the bodies, of mostly young women coming together to make and appreciate art, reflected eachother and the setting sun. here's what I shared. the last fragment is the beginning of an new communal art project. more to come... but i'm trying to bring people together in writing a modern epic, a sort of generational manifesto, for new york, our generation, our time. please contribute to the poem here! okay. Tree poems At the end of a long rope lies a tree felled. It (like you) Is compelled to braid itself into the earth But L...