up your architecture.

So last week, we got this little thank you package and on the inside of the wrapper of a chocolate bar there was a love poem that he read aloud to the studio. Well, we've kind of adopted it as a little tradition and ever since around 11am every day we will read a poem for the Design Studio and then it is put in the Poetry Corner book. It's the little things like this I'm going to really miss about our studio in the day-to-day when I move to the Bay.

Poems thus far:

04 Dec: Wild Nights- Emily Dickenson
05 Dec: Variations on the Word "Sleep"- Margaret Atwood
06 Dec: From A Gas Station Outside Providence- M. Doughty

This kiss, unfinished, lips to receiver in the parking lot,
a pucker shot through a fiber optic wire to an answering machine
toward switchboards and stations transmitting in blips to satellites,
this kiss thrown earthward and shooting down coils, around pipeline
and electric power lumbering underground,
up threads and transistors and transference points.
This kiss is zeroes and ones jumbled and tossed into a pneumatic system,
unscrambled at the end and scrawled onto a tape recorder slowly rolling
at the side of your bed,
then slapping back, reverbed off the ringer, a tinny phantom of the smooch
like a smack on an aluminum can,
up the same veins through the belly of the same satellite
and softly to the side of my head;
this kiss is home before the next exhalation leaves.
I'm stooped in the booth,
pounding quarters into the slot;
yellow light droops over the asphalt,
and your ghost, too cool and elusive with those hands and mouth
sings around me in the smell of gasoline;
whose mouth is this, scratched in static,
some droplet of a sigh, atomized, and sputtering digitized into my room?

07 Dec: Tell all the Truth but tell it Slant- Emily Dickenson (guest reader: Francis Lamb)