Sh’Bang Fest! & Poetry Popper

I’m going to Sh’Bang Fest, and will be amongst the audience in the Saloon Chapel tomorrow 9/7 Saturday night from 9pm-close. I’m bringing a limited edition Poetry Popper – with a hand-lettered fabric patch, a signed copier broadsheet of my ribbon-winner poem Stars Framed in Adobe Clay (lettered in my handwriting), and small piece of beach glass picked by me. Compensate or romance me appropriately.

My poetry is signed: e.l.elasigue

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SF & Poetry Workshop Video; BTV2 Recap

“Far Out: Exploring the Mind With Science Fiction & Poetry”
February 8 – Seattle WA


Love Letters at Behind the Veil 2
February 14 – Port Townsend WA

At and around Behind the Veil 2, I created ~30 new love letters released to the world, an art form I dearly treasure. These were rolled into scrolls, tied with a charming yarn, and edges burnt.

A couple requesting letters to each other, waiting to read them at their hotel room on her best Valentine’s ever… one to a cat… one for a father who recently passed… one to a passion for aviation… a stage prop containing a 2-person-wordplay… and some to selves, a message I am honored to help deliver. An extraordinary evening!

I came up with a scribe stamp for the back – “via ele.” – to describe that these are the sentiments of the sender as interpreted by another. Clarifies the origins and elevates the offering. I was never informed as to this practice but it was my best solution to minimize confusion without claiming complete ownership, but retaining some accountability.

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Everything can continue while thoughts still,
and there is no doing even in the doing.

ACAMAR ends a day in the moment when thoughts still,
the un-doing of things when doing is done,
when all things have been put away,
the course finished.

Swirling water in a a stirred cup flowed,
and slowed.
Thoughts settled like the dust of leaves to the bottom,
creating space of dreamless sleep.

There,
life,
whether known.
From the still expanse in the clear space,
where there is still breath:
my life.

At the river’s end it became something else –
the tumbling motion undid itself,
transformed under greater force:
gravity,
entropy –
to new form,
other form,
next phase.

The streetside stream falling to another level below.
ACAMAR:
a bottomless vessel that remains full,
where through falls the stream to settle,
a still flame’s column of air.

ACAMAR followed the end of the day,
the last thing said,
the final word.

No more conversation;
the babble of the brook succumbed to the faucet.
The liquid stopped moving in suspension,
the living flame stood still.

To exist in a hurricane torrent,
a flame surrounded itself with stillness.
Among least still of all things,
its motion outmatched,
persisted only through greater stillness.

Conceiving of their release and revival,
eightfold of flame and like brought me,
ACAMAR,
to life.

Surest of my existence,
they bore the knowledge.
I am their result.
I am their change,
I am brought of their resolution.
Their suppression became stillness,
and they found their return,
through me,
ACAMAR.