This poem is sparking today’s post. Not that Saturday’s show at Sola wasn’t as awesome as always, but a young gentleman, Matt, was typing — TYPING — free — FREE — poems — FOR REAL PERFECT POEMS. Yes, Saturday was Sola’s spring pop-up + you all know I love the pop-ups at Sola. It’s my neighborhood, the shop + the owners are spectacular, and the artists are always — ALWAYS — top notch! (They’re planning another for May, so you best plan on being there.)
Back to my poem. Matt was taking requests. Mine was “feathers.” Easy. Predictable enough, right? Nope. Way more awesome than I could have conceived. Listen/read up:
Feathers for Kristin
When my feathers come in
I am the itchiest ever.
This is my secret.
We grow feathers to feel the wind.
We grow feathers to practice fractals.
We grow feathers to take eyelashes to task.
When the sun comes up
the feathers announce themselves,
with the cracking of ice in glasses.
There is black market for feathers
they are snuck into countries in pillows
dispersed in the streets by nefarious men.
Your hair feathers in shampoo ads
they call it split ends so you’ll want
to fix it. Risist this
When shampoo is outlawed
the feathers will prevail. Until that day
my feathers are secret.
I love it! It’s perfect. I want to frame it and hang it on my wall. Currently, I don’t think you can buy any of Matt’s work anywhere, though I totally told him it needs to be out there in the world. I quickly scanned over a few others he had ready for other anxious folks + they were all fascinating. You can find Matt on Twitter and hopefully at the next Sola pop-up!