Tiny Talks with Beth Kephart

Tiny Talks is an interview series with Tiny Spoon’s talented contributors. This week we spoke with Beth Kephart from our seventh issue, Collaboration! Read Beth’s piece “Overjoy Cruise” in our issue.

*Since Beth’s work in our collaboration issue was an internal collaboration with the self, she conducted the interview with herself and we appreciate that.

TS: What called you to collaborate and what was that process like? 

Beth: As a writer of books I became increasingly obsessed with the art of books. And so I joined the two halves of myself.

TS: Why do you create? 

Beth: Because I am miserable (inside and out) when I don’t. Just ask my husband

TS: Where do you find most of your inspiration? / When do you feel most inspired?

Beth: There is, as Moyra Davey writes in her brilliant INDEX CARDS, no writing without reading. And so I read. And think.

TS: What is your dream project?

Beth: In my dream project I learn some very new things. I am surprised. I am awed. I struggle to put it all down, to share it.

TS: What book, artwork, music, etc., would you recommend to others? 

Beth: Anything Alice McDermott writes. 

Find more of Beth’s work here: bethkephartbooks.com / juncture workshops.com, and the etsy shop noted below.

TS: Do you have any current projects that you are working on that you would like to share?

Beth: I’ve taken my obsession with the art of blank books into the making and selling of blank books, collaborating with my artist husband. Here is our Etsy store: https://www.etsy.com/shop/BINDbyBIND

I also have a new craft book, created with my husband, called WE ARE THE WORDS: THE MASTER MEMOIR CLASS

Purchase Beth’s journal on her Etsy shop!

Tiny Talks with Rochelle Robshaw & Beverly Frydman

Tiny Talks is an interview series with Tiny Spoon’s talented contributors. This week we spoke with Rochelle Robshaw & Beverly Frydman from our seventh issue, Collaboration!

Tiny Spoon: What called you to collaborate and what was that process like? 

Beverly Frydman & Rochelle Scholar: We were on a train to Liverpool and realized that we were writers who were not writing. We gave ourselves this challenge: what could we do to do some writing on a daily basis.  We decided to email each other.

TS: Why do you create? 

B&R: We create because we want to connect with ourselves and others.  We create together because we inspire each other to keep going. Plus, we make each other laugh.

TS: Where do you find most of your inspiration? When do you feel most inspired?

B&R: We find inspiration in the bits and pieces of our lives that might otherwise get lost. We write about memories, observations, absurdities, and daily life.

TS: What is your dream project?

B&R: We have many! We want to be a book, an art installation, a quilt, song lyrics, have our posts on pieces of pottery.

TS: Do you have any current projects that you are working on that you would like to share? 

B&R: Recently, our lockdown posts were adapted into a play, Spring 2020. It was performed as part of the Love (and Survival) in a Time of Covid festival at the Tower Theatre in London.

TS: What book, artwork, music, etc., would you recommend to others?

B&R: We see ourselves as part of a continuum of living memoir. We are inspired by Gertrude Stein and Deborah Levy.

We have an Instagram account @ourpostproject where we post bits of our correspondence and some photos.

Tiny Talks with Laura Bell & Ian Ganassi

Tiny Talks is an interview series with Tiny Spoon’s talented contributors. This week we spoke with Laura Bell and Ian Ganassi from our seventh issue, Collaboration! They completed our interview with each other virtually over Zoom.

Tiny Spoon: What called you to collaborate and what was that process like?

Laura: Our ongoing collaborative collage series, “The Corpses,” was Ian’s idea. He’s a poet who lives in New Haven, Connecticut, and we met as artists-in-residence at the Millay Colony. Some years after we’d been at the residency together, he initiated the project, thinking it would be interesting for a poet and a painter to collaborate. It was basically along the lines of: I’ll send you something, you do something to it and send it back to me. (I live in NYC.)

Ian mailed me an unfinished poem on a page stained with coffee rings, but I didn’t act on it right away, it may have been a year or so before I came across the page again, made some moves, and sent it back to him. The evolution was pretty quick after that, and soon we were mailing multiple pieces back and forth. What started out as a possible short-term project between us has become a long-running series of more than a decade, with 300 pieces and counting.

Tiny Spoon: Why do you create?

Laura: It’s just the best way of interpreting, and living in, the world.

The artists at a reading in NYC.

Tiny Spoon: Where do you find most of your inspiration? When do you feel most inspired?

Laura: We were both already working with found materials—Ian with found text in his poems and me with images and found objects in my paintings and mixed-media pieces on paper. So the collage sensibility was already part of our individual practices. What we have found is that the habit of looking for materials everywhere we go has turned the whole world into material, whether it be out on the street or anywhere else we find ourselves; we have even found collage materials in a hospital room.

Ian: The Corpses turned us into scavengers. We tried to get the whole world into them.

TS: What is your dream project?

Laura: We have been showing and publishing pieces from the series in groups from 3 to 30, and what we would like now is to find a space to put up 200 or more pieces. There are often repetitions of text and images from piece to piece over the years, and we imagine that a really large group, covering every wall, would create a terrific resonance of echoes and relationships.

TS: Do you have any current projects that you are working on that you would like to share? 

Laura: Right now, Ian is awaiting the publication of his second book of poetry, by MadHat Press, True for the Moment. His previous book-length poetry collection, Mean Numbers, published in 2016, had as its cover one of our collaborative collages, “Natural Equation.” And I am currently arranging to hold a collage workshop in my Bronx neighborhood as part of a grant I received from the Bronx Council for the Arts, where I will talk about and show images from our series, as well as having the group create their own collages.

Ian’s book, “Mean Numbers” mentioned above

TS: What book, artwork, music, etc., would you recommend to others?

Laura: I am a devotee of Joseph Cornell’s assemblage boxes, which captured a transcendent poetry, often with dime-store finds. He is really a found-art icon.

Ian: John Ashbery’s Selected Poems, because Ashbery is “the supreme user of collage in poetry.”

“Penumbra”
“Good Citizens”

Laura and Ian’s work can be viewed on their website – thecorpses.com – or on Instagram – @bellandganassi & you can find their collages in Issue 7, Collaboration.

Tiny Talks with Jordain Gillen & Megan Sanderson

We kick off our Tiny Talks Series with Issue 7: Collaboration cover artists, Jordain Gillen and Megan Sanderson!

Tiny Talks are interviews between our editors and contributors. It is just another way Tiny Spoon is growing through community support. We will be sending all contributors from our issues these carefully curated questions.

Tiny Spoon: What called you to collaborate and what was that process like? 

Jordain: Myself and Megan have been best friends for years. We both studied art in high school and at university. So it just came naturally for us to collaborate. We both have a similar mindset as well so our ideas just bounce off one another.

Tiny Spoon: Why do you create? 

Jordain: I create because it’s my passion ! I know nothing else other than to be creative. I enjoy the aesthetic of creating other worldly pieces as a form of escapism. I am always looking for the next thing or the next idea and it just comes naturally to me. I am so passionate about a number of different things including Queer culture, the mystic, holistic well being and humanitarian rights which is all reflected within my work. So being creative also gives me an outlet to express my views and my creativity.

Megan: I create because I enjoy experimenting. I always like to try something new so I would try a variety of different art forms. Photography is my passion though. I like to capture nature in its natural form and enjoy the outdoors. I’m also very passionate about controversial issues within society and sometimes like to address this through my work.

Tiny Spoon: Where do you find most of your inspiration? / When do you feel most inspired?

Jordain: I am always feeling inspired by something. Though a majority of my inspiration comes from being very spiritual. I am at my happiest when I am in nature and so a lot of the work I create would portray this. As a cancerian I very much enjoy being by the sea and in the water, feeling grounded by the natural earth. So no matter what I create, whether it be inspired by queer culture or by nature, I will always bring it back to the seaside to be photographed through my own interpretation.

Megan: As I said above I enjoy the outdoors. I would do a lot of water sports and sightseeing around my home in Northern Ireland. We have a lot of greenery and nature spots here in Northern Ireland, so I always enjoy photographing them in a new way to capture their natural beauty. Other times I just have an idea and I just go with it. For me it’s all about having fun and experimenting.

Tiny Spoon: What is your dream project?

Jordain: My dream project would be to create a series that’s underwater. It’s hard to describe but imagine an art performance that’s documented from under the water. Something along those lines.

Megan: I’m not sure what mine would be, but I do love to travel so perhaps photographing beautiful places throughout the world where I’ve never been before.

Tiny Spoon: Do you have any current projects that you are working on that you would like to share? 

Jordain: At the moment I am just finishing up with showcasing my ‘The Universe Untold’ Collection, which had two showings here in Northern Ireland. One in my hometown of Ballymena and the other which was just last week in Belfast. I will have an online showing as well which will be available on my website soon. This project was massive so it feels good that it has been well received in both showings. I am also currently planning an exhibition for my Ghosties which were very popular last Autumn. However, due to lockdown I could only show them online, so this year I have big plans for them.

MeganAt the moment I have no plans. I’m just enjoying the last of the summer holidays out in nature and photographing as I go along.

Tiny Spoon: What book, artwork, music, etc., would you recommend to others?

Jordain: At the moment I am currently hooked on the Love Victor series on Disney+. Music wise I love everything but at the moment I am hooked on the new Billie Elish album. It just has so much depth and experimentation which I love. Book wise, I have currently been flicking my way through Dom and Inks new book ‘Queer Power’, which illustrates inspirational people in the queer community.

Megan: I am a huge fan of Horror so anything horror related I recommend. I’m a big fan of American Horror Story so I’m excited for the new season coming soon.

Tiny Spoon: Is there anything else you would like others to know about you, your creations, or beyond?

Jordain: I’m not sure if I mentioned but I am very spiritual. So I am very interested in crystal healing, journaling and love to meditate and practice yoga on a daily basis which also influences my work. I have so many exciting things in the works at the moment which I am so excited to share with everyone soon.

Megan: I am quite interested in the occult and love learning about different aspects of the mystic which goes hand in hand with my love of horror. Even though it’s not everyone’s cup of tea I do love creating horror inspired work as well. Sometimes it’s a good outlet for frustration or dealing with problems within society through art.

Tiny Spoon: Where can people learn more about what you do?

Jordain: My instagram is probably my most active place for updates, but you can also find out more on my website and other social media:

https://jordainmolloygillen.wixsite.com/jordainmolloygillen

https://www.instagram.com/jordainmolloygillen/

https://www.facebook.com/JordainGillenArtist/

Megan: Again my Instagram is probably my most active platform but I am also on Facebook: https://www.instagram.com/imprintphotographyni/

https://www.facebook.com/imprintphotographyni/

Issue 7 Feature: Bakota. Ukranian Atlantis. Flooded village under the water, by Tanbelia The Slime Artist

This piece was published in black and white in our seventh issue. Here is a more intimate look in full color featuring a photo of the artist.

Polyptych, bas-relief height 4 cm, Slime, acrylic texture paste on canvas.

“Ukrainian Atlantis is located in an extremely picturesque place called Bakota,
Podilsky Tovtry, Khmelnytsky region. Bakota was once a large, strong border village,
but its history ended in 1981, when the village was completely flooded during the
construction of a hydroelectric power plant. Now there is a wide and deep river
Dniester, 42 meters deep. There in the rocks is one of the oldest monasteries “Rock
Monastery”. This place is called the place of power, and indeed, having been there
you feel that you are on top of the world and full of energy. There are no routes or
buses in Bakota, you can only get there by your own transport on a difficult road.
In the artwork I depicted the river Dniester under which is the past village, the
nature that surrounds this beautiful place, here you feel alone with nature. I wanted
to convey the grandeur, the power of the water element, this picture radiates power
and makes the viewer think about how strong nature is and we must protect it”

Find more work on Tanbelia’s website:  https://tanbeliaart.wixsite.com/tanbelia and on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/tanbeliaart/

Issue 7 Feature: Angel Lockhart and Amara Baker

The warm noon spring light shines through the open kitchen window as the small timer goes off, telling her that it’s time to take out the loaf of bread. Birds chirped right outside the little cottage window along with the bright laughter of the girl’s younger sister.  She moves the curtain aside to gaze outside and finds Everly prancing around in the leaves. The dainty girl falls into a patch of flowers and their petals float down into her pigtails. The older sister looks back to the oven and pulls the steaming loaf out of the oven. She brings the pan up to her nose and the sweet yeasty aroma makes her mouth water.. She sets the bread on the window sill gently. “Everly!” she calls out.

The little girl looks up with dirt smudged against her pale yellow dress. It falls just below her knees and the thin straps refuse to stay put on her shoulders. Messy stitch marks cover the dress in an attempt to keep the dress from falling off of her. The waist is pulled taut with a big ribbon which is now swept up in the breeze. Her skin was kissed by the sun, her eyes a soft earthen green. She gives her older sister a big smile before spinning around in the crisp green grass, her feet littered with dust and dirt from the ground beneath her. The dress curves around her gracefully as she twirls and twirls. Her pigtails keep brushing against her face every time she stops.

One of the ribbons in her hair starts to come undone. Every movement is gentle yet carefree.

She makes a point to be careful of the newly sprung flowers, the flower crown from earlier this morning now laid on the ground in disregard. Breeze blows gently through the trees and the smell of springtime wafts inside the cottage.

The older sister watches  her with a loving, yet slightly somber smile. She is glad that, at the very least, they still have each other.

Bio: Amara and Angel worked together to create this art, music, and writing collaboration. They are two creators at Fremont High School. They are involved in Book Club, Creative Writing Club, and other various activities. 

Issue 7 Feature: Tanbelia, The Slime Artist

Bio: “I’m Tanbelia a slime artist and sculptor from Ukraine. I’m working with slime, which is a kind of unusual material. Slime is a popular children’s anti-stress toy for hands. I gave a new meaning to this viscous material, translated it from the plane of art. I repeat the recycling of paper and plastic to create unique sculptures, I want to encourage people to preserve nature, protect the environment.”

Artist Statement

“My art about nature in abstract forms, I feel the most connection with nature and depict the natural environment by my feelings in my vision. I want to encourage people to preserve and protect nature.

I use slime, which is a kind of unusual material. Slime is a popular children’s anti-stress toy for hands. I gave a new meaning to this viscous material, translated it to the plane of art. Also recycling paper and plastiс with my own technology for sculptures.

Abstraction speaks most accurately, it is and how everyone wants to see it, it is about what the artist put in it, what emotion is behind it. After all, we like to solve riddles, but not to know the answer immediately. I do not only create paintings but I also think about ecology, what I can do for it, I am always looking for new artistic techniques, especially paying attention to the recycling of plastic and paper and using this in my art.

Dragon Eyes, made from recycled paper and slime.

I found inspiration in nature and extreme these two things cause me such emotions and feelings that I am ready to turn the world.

Impressionism influences my works a lot because artists created their masterpieces fast on the plein air, only this, in my opinion, makes each artwork so unique, emotional, and alive especially if you paint on the plein air and feel this connection with the world.

Return of Fish to Coral Reefs. The Origin of Disappeared Life. made from slime and recycled paper.

I want to encourage people to preserve and protect nature. We live in the Anthropocene age and this period needs to be not an ecological catastrophe, but vice versa we can try to protect nature, the underwater world from rubbish and human activities.”

Image one: Trip to the underwater park Ras-Mohamed in Egypt, made from recycled paper and slime on canvas

Image two: Photo of artist with Green Anemone, made from recycled paper on canvas

Image three: Close-up of the piece Green Anemone

In the coming weeks, we will share more work from this artist! You can view more of her work in Issue 7 and on her website: https://tanbeliaart.wixsite.com/tanbelia/volume-slime and on her Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/tanbeliaart/

Issue 7 Feature : Mary With Halo

Art created by Photographer and Designer, Catalina Aranguren and Poet, Rescue Poetix.

Catalina and Rescue are both artists and community organizers living in Jersey City, NJ. They are actively involved in enhancing and promoting Jersey City’s vibrant arts culture. Through their work together a friendship developed which resulted in a desire to create pieces together. This is the first collaboration. Their bilingual and bicultural background was also instrumental to their relationship.


Catalina was born in Bogotá and raised in Caracas. She moved to Chicago to study at SAIC and did a semester at Spéos in Paris, France. She is a photographer, graphic designer, curator, event producer and community organizer.

Find here online here: Photography: @carangurenhome / Design: @our_casona / JC Art Walk: @walk_byeJCPC / Fundraising series: @plates4parksJC / Pride Alliance: @jcpridealliance / West Side Stories Festival: @westsidestoriesjc / Titus: @titus_great and on her website here: http://www.argia.photos/


RescuePoetix, is a first generation Puerto Rican born in New Jersey with deep family roots in Puerto Rico. She established herself as an author, poet, spoken word artist, event producer, artist manager, sponsor, community organizer and collaborator.

Dead Beats : A Series by Andrea Becker and Andrew Byrds

Spring

Dear A,

Escaped winter again, so I went to Hua Hin, where young women sat solemn
in the storefronts with rotten old American men—someone told me, “You
can’t eat love.” At sunrise, fishermen laid their fish on ice, women in flowered dresses
sat streetside under tattered blue and yellow awnings, shelling garlic and mollusks
for the day. Reddened old expatriates flocked to the beach, pouring out of
swimming clothes, skin falling over their dense silver bones like old drapes,
and for two days I laid among them in the sun, saying “Ko pun kah, ko pun kah.”


Departing, I saw a shantytown of corrugated steel, bent and glittering
beneath the new skeleton of a superhighway, exiting Bangkok to the west.
Between long rows of rust-flecked shacks, Thais bathed in tall cement pools –
they emerged, dancing, reincarnate clean, bare and lustrous in the copper light,
shaking the dew from their day-browned skins—I could almost feel the mist
from the train but in half a second they were gone, down the track ten meters
more, my window opened on a lone man riding the ridge of the skeleton’s back,
showering the darkness with steel-red sparks.

 
I thought of cornflower on the prairie as the last light melted below
the horizon and the women in the opposite seat dozed across each other’s loins,
communal baths and livable shacks, forlorn men welding infrastructure
onto their dreams, and asked myself, “How did I get here, really
what do I need?”

Missing,
A

/A

It’s one of those copper-flavored mornings and I slept 

On a bed rat-nested by old towels and torn blankets with 

The purls draped over from the sides fishing dust/tumefied food scraps. 

An overcast jeweled by slivers of travel, the neighbor’s birch limbs 

Stripped raw of their paper-skin—I remember I used to call them krispie

Trees as a child, their frames warmed in summer smelled exactly 

Like Rice Krispies, but no one else ever even gave it a chance. 

Anyway it’s seven thirty here trying my damndest to incite a vagrant

Gospel or some crude riddle furled out through sockets unravaged, but 

For Christ’s sake it’s too early for poetry and rosemary-tonic Epiphany. 

Allow me to lie in the piles of old clothes near the ventilation that accentuates 

The sugared-vinegar miasma of sweat from the cotton and notching my feet

Into the woodwork folding tongue over teeth a corkscrew of the flesh and 

Forgetting about the outside for a while, and letting go of everything. 

You always tell me how admirable it is to be this honest, 

And you ask how I can see the truth in those stoic little ways and all I can say

Is that there is no truth to find, no truth to extol, no truth to figure out. 

I don’t find the truth because it was never there, I find the beauty as best 

As I can and play god for some time if the mess the mess that comes out looks

Beyond repair—in this way no matter how bloodied and raped I become, I 

Can always mend and treat the wounds whereas others simply become the wounds.

After all, we are just bodies, that’s the only promise we were given.

/a

dear darling A,

it’s summer now.

where are you? are you happy? I worry

about your joy, you know, and just in case

you don’t know – here I am, here 

i am again and again

doing what i’ve done again,

but somehow i still don’t learn

to expect the curb where 

the mall begins.

my friends are chemists and working writers

and foreigners and vegans 

and fucking goddesses— 

i’m the waif missing

the paint-peeled porch,

your tawny locks, the wit behind your eyes,

the pith in your mouth when you tell

me about the books you’re reading.

here, in the university, pods, their stupas

laugh on the soft green lawn. 

i received a secret teaching in a pine-hewn hut

atop a berry strewn mount 

where the red-robed shaggy guru didn’t 

rap my head when he saw i was afraid. 

the pain is a blessing, he said,

and waved me off, laughing.

i opened secrets in myself, and they were strange ones:

like the pomegranate does not shed its petals 

in the heat, the flower itself is the fruit.

yes, here i am, if you come searching

worry not – i will seem the same, but know

something here was lost or gained.

loving you still, A

Process Note:

These three exchanges are from a manuscript that my longtime friend Andrew and I wrote together in 2017. We hadn’t seen each other in some time and decided to engage in poetic correspondence until we could get together again. This experimental exchange began in a Messenger conversation when I returned to Naropa to finish my degree after a three year adventure/hiatus: we wanted to satirize our own correspondence in the Beat lineage, so we gave each other nicknames (both “A”) and wrote these “letters” for the better part of a year. They ultimately culminated in two beautiful visits and a lot of really bad jokes about Boulder’s poetic history. Incidentally, only one reference to an obscure string of jokes appears in this selection.





Andrea Becker is a poet, photographer and full-time snack-eater living in Boulder, CO.

Andrew Byrds lives in Portland, OR and is a writer, actor, and the interviews editor for Entropy.

Dead Beats : A Series by Andrea Becker and Andrew Byrds

Winter

Dear A,

I heard the blues busked over by telegrams of salt-eaten cars 

Dead leaves slopped on the neighbor’s lawns, wires hummed

Beaten and tamed by rust in the walls. Music comes this way now.

The music is on the streets, but raped from the voices that used to play

From the heart—there’s no truth in that garden, and if anyone knows the 

Truth they aren’t saying a goddamned word—someone said there’s an ounce 

Of truth in every word, so what do we trade for this? 

Haven’t been able to sleep much since being back. 

Something about sleeping in an occupied room 

Where the rippling of blankets eases more than any white noise.

Box fans don’t make the cut anymore, bending hardwood downstairs null. 

There are days when I’d trade my peace of mind for a piece of ass

Do you know what I mean? How unity for a moment in the sleek, sweat, fever

Of it all surpasses months of sanity and you could conquer anything knowing 

You championed your own flesh for the pleasures of another? 

Listen, we need to get on top of these back-and-forths and figure out what

The hell this all means, what are we doing, what are we doing, what are we doing?

Where are you right now, and are you happy? Who speaks for you? 

Is it Allen kicking pricks over East Village vitrine while his mother lies dying

In a hospital, mind studded with delusional pleas of Christ, 

Or Jack burning incense at a cottage in Big Sur, blessing his guts the Canadian 

Way while his daughter grows up a stranger who only wanted his name?

Or has Frank come to your window at night and offered a cigarette and a

$10 story he could only whisper over coffee?

When was the last time you saw blood and didn’t flinch? Where are you going?

I’m boring myself. Everything sounds the same—my nails’re growing long, 

People I know are fading or getting married, days gone by, days gone by.

This is the best I can give you now,

A

Dear A,

From this place, before the solstice, you can almost pierce the fog exhaust

and smell the highland air. Boulder is as packed as ever

with its indulgences—malas for jewelry, amethyst, obsidian,

celestite to drop about the corners of the room, nag champa 

to awaken the senses away from the muted stench of glib truth.

You can almost smell the subalpine air, elk graze a meadow somewhere,

filling out their winter coats with the last of the season’s prairie.

Vendors push carts of dollar books onto the sidewalks, 

academy courtesans and chattering friends huddle together

on the patios, weaning themselves from thin-walled paper cups

before the sun sinks into the canyon, tempering them toward television

that pulses through the city’s windows, they drift awash in blue.

Two weeks and I am gone again. Your song reverberates in my hollow chest,

Where are you now, and are you happy? Where are you now,

where are you, and are you

happy?

The truth is that I don’t know anything, even before I left home,

every moment a sojourn. 

There was the art-house, the road, the mountain,

the subtropics, cornscape, the capital, 

niagara, and the twelve-hour-flight.

I sang cyrillic in the land between the seas, then 

there was the little island, the big one,

a cyrillic spring, long island, niagara, and the heartland.

There was sorrow, and Hammond, the protest camp,

the long train, niagara, the tete des morts valley,

the land between the seas, the big island, cornscape,

music city, mountain again.

Now home, Thailand and the Himalayas wait,

(but I am dreaming Leningrad)

Sometimes people ask me: A, when are you going to stop?

It’s time to accumulate accolades 

and wealth, and save

some time for us. You can’t run forever, 

you’ll get caught somehow—but you ask

where are you now, and are you happy?

You, traveler of a different sort,

don’t waste your life on lonely sojourns!

Just pour another poem in the churn

and meet me in the stubble

where the corn stood

just two months ago.

Can’t wait to see you again.

xo,

A

Dear A,

Someone once said that someone once said that

The makings of a great artist branch from the suffering

And forsaken nature of one’s craft, copulating incessantly through 

Swathes of blind lust scaling the pricks of their stuck fingers until it 

Distills itself  into the one true voice of this human condition. 

And so we preamble these worn streets, dagger-eyed and silver-tongued 

Begging for a spool of rust to trade in for a bit of poison or some such regret

Because all one can understand is by means of minor mutilation or self entropy. 

Come hell or highwater, that’s a load of bullfuckery if I ever heard any in my years, 

And for what it’s worth I believe my tribulations and graces mean just as much as

Those already written and tattooed upon the flesh of my brothers and sisters in the wastes.

We have these experiences blistered on the mind and softened by the wrists always arching, 

Reaching outward for another warmth by machine or lover in places where otherwise our 

Voices would be a drop of oil in a drum, the demarcations in these verses unfurling into 

Something godless and pure, have you ever felt this clean, and where are you now?

Are you happy? you ask again and again, and I say unto thee, I’m a little cold but I am 

Getting there, death feels distant for the first time in ages, there’s money in the bank, 

I’ve eaten at crowded tables with familiar faces and laughed, and I’m always asking you 

To feed me a little bit more with your comforts—the crows fly in a fever here, you’ll see. 

A





Process Note:

These three exchanges are from a manuscript that my longtime friend Andrew and I wrote together in 2017. We hadn’t seen each other in some time and decided to engage in poetic correspondence until we could get together again. This experimental exchange began in a Messenger conversation when I returned to Naropa to finish my degree after a three year adventure/hiatus: we wanted to satirize our own correspondence in the Beat lineage, so we gave each other nicknames (both “A”) and wrote these “letters” for the better part of a year. They ultimately culminated in two beautiful visits and a lot of really bad jokes about Boulder’s poetic history. Incidentally, only one reference to an obscure string of jokes appears in this selection.





Andrea Becker is a poet, photographer and full-time snack-eater living in Boulder, CO.

Andrew Byrds lives in Portland, OR and is a writer, actor, and the interviews editor for Entropy.