(Here’s one by my friend Gwen Mandell)
Negotiating one’s way through a pandemic can surely make one mad,
Not any madder than any other day, though the lines separating days seem blurred and madness seems commodified.
On a search for what seems logical at a particular moment,
Kind of an exploration into space-time
Where your sense of connection can only be corroborated by experience and experience is not so reliable.
Trying to rely on others for clarity,
Clarity surely seems to be a luxury these days, as do connections with others.
One can imagine that someone who has never gone through a pandemic might have no idea where this might lead – Can we paint a mural of this moment?
Where are those boundaries which tell us where to go?
I had a pleasant day though.
Walking among my fellow mad mates,
Doing a dance of continuity – trying to make our mark.
Sickness, hopelessness and despair in the air, attempt to choke us, but we are still breathing.
Masked figures at sidewalk cafes,
the streets slightly bustling amid a small crowd of passersby.
Poor and middle class alike, we tug at our masks as we decide our next move.
Big picture offers an array of possibilities, none secure, but
worth the price of entertainment.
I drew a line in the sand which led me to a cacophonous melody of emotion.
It was just another day, hardly historical.
But doesn’t significant transformation require a step into history?
Can we negotiate the ride?
Perform a collective sigh which allows us to play with madness?
Need to get beyond experience. My hope is in the masses, lost though we might be. Hopefully on a road somewhere.
poems for friends 