Allegra Chabay & Kati Knox

          dedicated, with love and reverence, to leslie scalapino

Patti was a punk
Red tights or was it a red dress
Visionary Indian angels revealing pyramids the writing in the sky

          Bird slows it down eyes follow line
          Of bird
          This is the play

Dangling our feet
Dinosaur Hill

          I am also on the beach
          She is on the bench

And yes, the cat is eating –
We went
Feet dangling

          Along bottom of ocean
          Wet trench and blue
          Seal to skyline

Oh, no. I’m starting to write like
Not much, but I’ll read it anyway

The best place you’ll ever be

          Is where you are right now

I laugh and think of dennis
The table the talk the wine -

          Remember flying there was a full moon when she was
          In costa and I was there it was then it is

Now and both
Became we sat     turned     the curtains

This is long long longing
For spirit rest
In an ocean     an Indian angel
Never rests
Before dawn

          Becomes mollusk again, enters a fiction of
          Unseen I land
          Now before before
          Comes staggering in

                    To coastline goldmines
This reminded me of
And I just got
A book of rosmarie
three by three
back to doubledness,

          I even heard someone say something
          About it

Inspired by the act of living

The ladders led me to her (unica) I started to climb

          The ways hands interact with water
          then pulling
          the body through the body the

Tides and moon co-incided I just
Wanted to stay and the simultaneity
Of action and this
Is our play

          Performing the painting

Producing all that
Is happening words are
Weighted objects

          The crickets it must be almost summer she was
          Talking and performing

We mention the space between self and removal from self
Patti is still eating

          But that’s not the end.

That’s the first act, right?

          It’s not a literal curtain. It could be your eyelid,
          you know? It could be a curtain…

Talk, talk.

Chamber of hands. Body as if actual thing. Containment,
New line of vision,
                    straight to the heart.

This is our play.
Keep going.
          (silence.)    (laughing)

Another talk with alice…

          and that’s the difficulty with words. Words are
          weighted objects.


          At this moment, the play begins.
          (we scribble furiously)
          there were children here.
“I love how everything happens”

dialogue     monologue     silence     ?

          here, like:wish-hope
          weighting room
          the line, lara,
          I still see your face

Seeing shadows #2 (ACT 2)(TO ACT)
How do you do that? About Bernadette. Right now. What did he say?

          Who the fuck is Bernadette?
“The day may never come from me”
What came then
Comes, goes,
Stays and stays and now

          oh well the lips suddenly
          on the cheek
          movement toward to right

He said something about sly?


-mountains- rally up. To inside.


This time is this winding down of silence of several, anyway,
Bernadette said we should
In contact
          everyone looks better in the dark
          keep thinking hello, or of sneaking out, I’m not sure which

Mirror or light eventually
          a coming to or hiding out?

Getting out of town again
Yes the dark green candle

          why the repeat
The record
He was bright green he was yelling
Not in a way not that way he was just reaching his voice to our eyes

          they called us outlaws
          pure crystal
          we cheer our glasses meet
          and now the breaking of glass
          it is beautiful the glass
          the red spilling
          the floor again
          we laugh


I never told you I had a map to chart his territory
O.K., the street or bed later

          (his voice is fading he’s in the room. He is
repeating I          told you he is repeating he is a
stranger he is stopping          and starting there is
a tension building occurring this is       strange/r)

WILMUR TIMEOUT (intermission)


We were the purveyors and the provenance
Of the magic we spoke
With tongues unbound

          The earth drank it up
          The ocean breathes it back to us
          Silver surfers swimming on tables plentiful

Before long what we saw gave way to
A landscape of conversion,
We were only calculating the changes

               (lines and fingertips)

Which we admired even as what we were was changed

          Touching the surface of something
          Much deeper nothing but the shape of

               and a slight visual shift in
               surface tension

Fill in the blanks,
That’s just my head heart giving space
To all of the things
I am feeling

          We’ll take a little airplane and the old bags
          And very little money
          It’s uncertain we’ll arrive, but in any case

Wondering about wonder
Greener     Smoother     Younger

          Wild hills rise and pass,
          Extinguishing sun poised a moment
          On grass tips.
          Wild   GreenWind   Born

Allegra Beth Chabay & Kati Knox both graduated from the MFA Poetry program at Mills College in 2009. Through their mentor Leslie Scalapino, they forged a writing partnership that continues to inspire their lives and friendship. Their poems work towards expanding form, exploding convention, and opening the channels in the mind to further and heighten consciousness and self-awareness. The poem writes itself, and re-writes itself, through direct experience with life. Never excluding the life of the mind, dreams, and most certainly the inner landscapes of the self.