| I wanted to make a thing we could hold. |
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| I am a photographer, a bookmaker, a poet. |
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| If I could, I would make this journal for you on kudzu paper with ink from flowers and platinum photographs inside . . . |
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| It had something to do with rest. |
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| I think that pages — poems — books — they are resting places for what we have to say. For what we see. |
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| It was a reaction to all of the (necessary and often fabulous) on-line work that is out there. |
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| It had to do with unrest. |
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| Work should be enjoyed tactilely. Poems should be kept, when loved. Passed on. Sent out. |
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| There is a postcard in every issue, I hope you’ll mail it. I wanted it to come with a stamp on it, but that would have been another thousand dollars. |
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| Tuesday. |
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| It’s named after a poem I wrote. The poem was named after a rainy day in 2005. |
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—Jennifer S. Flescher |
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Tuesday
A rain-strength scours
lilac’s nectar-laden
trumpets to dirt.
Deluge, burying
the bee’s clamor
for sweet . . .
mouths wanting,
wet, still near
enough to thriving
for belief.
Windows shudder
in their grooves,
unbound. Bananas
on the counter,
black past bread.
So when you say,
How are you?
I say, Thank you.
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