Patti - and if the poet had declined to give you his coat, it would still be his to cherish. Did you not care about it enough, to lose it in such a cavalier manner? Why did you request he give you the shirt off his back? Was this some kind of sense of entitlement which he was obligated to concede to? I'm just curious. I once offered my umbrella to a homeless man who was sitting in the pouring rain. He didn't want to take it. Gifting and asking and taking......how does the poet feel about his coat now being lost? I guess he's as sad about it as you are.
Listening to you oftentimes makes my spirit turn inward even more than it already is. ❤️ I still have the napkin upon which you wrote your email address, saying "I'm accessible," but refusing to allow me to photograph you... I keep that worn napkin in an old cigar box. It's the only piece of anything in the box. Where do we begin an end? Do I end at my extremities? Or at the end of my spoon or the bottom of my dish of Delicata squash or the vine upon which it grew? Or the mycelium underneath which connects to the roots of the trees where I live? The depths of your voice, your words, that coat?
The Budapest Opera House is one of the most beautiful in Europe, a great setting for anything, and for wandering the wood-paneled corridors and lounges with a caviar sandwich and a glass of bubbly.,
Thank you Patti, thank you Oliver Ray, thank you Black Coat, threaded with love, passion, warmth.
💫
Certain things… they just mean something. Yes.
This black coat is a leitmotiv! Like a scavenger hunt... stuck with your poetry
You look pretty in your black coat.
Happy adventures ! ☕
I am so excited for your exquisite trip to Europe. Look forward to the stories
Patti, your stories are always wonderful. Thanks for your continued sharing; see you soon at the Cloud in Rome (with the whole band?)
Thank you everyone. What beautifully written comments. All grasping the holy threads....
The poet is a dear friend, we exchange many things. He was sad for me and I gave him my jacket that he loved. You have the wrong impression.
Patti - and if the poet had declined to give you his coat, it would still be his to cherish. Did you not care about it enough, to lose it in such a cavalier manner? Why did you request he give you the shirt off his back? Was this some kind of sense of entitlement which he was obligated to concede to? I'm just curious. I once offered my umbrella to a homeless man who was sitting in the pouring rain. He didn't want to take it. Gifting and asking and taking......how does the poet feel about his coat now being lost? I guess he's as sad about it as you are.
That's a great picture there of you in the black coat. Everything about it. I hope that you have a good trip. nm.
the black coat, the uniform, the blanket with pockets too deep to understand...
Listening to you oftentimes makes my spirit turn inward even more than it already is. ❤️ I still have the napkin upon which you wrote your email address, saying "I'm accessible," but refusing to allow me to photograph you... I keep that worn napkin in an old cigar box. It's the only piece of anything in the box. Where do we begin an end? Do I end at my extremities? Or at the end of my spoon or the bottom of my dish of Delicata squash or the vine upon which it grew? Or the mycelium underneath which connects to the roots of the trees where I live? The depths of your voice, your words, that coat?
The Budapest Opera House is one of the most beautiful in Europe, a great setting for anything, and for wandering the wood-paneled corridors and lounges with a caviar sandwich and a glass of bubbly.,
Everytime I put it on I felt like myself. ❤️
APB: b l a c k c o a t