seventeen beats (give or take)

Thinking of a little book I picked up years ago — can’t remember the title — but it was the result of a project by singer Michael Stipes and a few of his friends that charmed me. Their goal: to take turns sending each other postcards every day, on which they wrote tiny poems in haiku form, simple moments drawn from everyday. The point was not to write great poetry, or to be all that deep. The point was to keep in touch and — not to get all Zen or anything — find a way to be in the moment, to connect with life, etc. All reasons we write in the first place.

On days when I don’t feel like blogging, perhaps I’ll try this.

And so I give you:

In his crib, he lifts
each toy: “Bear. Dog. Fox.” One by
one we name the beasts.


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