paint&ash&soot – paperfibers&dirt&burntmeteoriteparticles –
[dust]
not just a litany, not just a list
marinelifeskeletons&erodedrocks&shells
not just a litany, not just a list
{sand}
microscopic bits
tiny molecules,
they say when astronauts get to space, they often
weep.
not at the grandeur of
not at the vastness of
the universe,
but the smallness
of us all.
we’re miniscule – but don’t you dare think
we are gnats in a galaxy.
Isabelle Palerma 
Thank you Isabelle. You are my muse for some poetry. I loved your poetry and your story.
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Wow, thank you, John. You always say the kindest things. For a little bit, I stopped writing and experienced extreme self-doubt. Your encouragement pushes me to not give up because of the critics.
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Fudge the critics. People told Hemingway and Salinger. They wrote like shit. Hemingway and Salinger became pretty music loved and appreciated. Dear Isabelle. I must read to write and tonight. Your words opened up my mind. Later tonight a glass of whiskey and I will write. We need our muses and remember. Us, who love to write. We must have tough skin. You are welcome dear poet. When you write the great novel. The critics opinions will be forgotten.
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You truly flatter me. I remember when I began writing, I mimicked the greats – Salinger and Hemingway included. Now, I write as myself. I’m so glad my words helped to open you up. Something about a glass of whiskey and writing sounds romantic to me in a way; I usually write in the morning with a mug of lukewarm coffee.
My skin can be as thin as tissue paper sometimes, but other times, I feel appropriately calloused. I actually wrote about this criticism recently and am glad I’m bouncing back from it. There will always be critics, no matter how much we grow as authors and poets. People like to point at the flaws of art and insinuate they can create better, but usually the ones who critique only create perfection in their minds.
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I am retired now. Like my grandpa. A glass of whiskey at 8 pm and watch the night come. Dear Isabelle. Writing is hard work.
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I feel retired. I’m an author/poet who finds it difficult to find work. It can be disappointing when I feel others don’t notice me.
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Here in Michigan. In my area. Jobs are everywhere. They pay well and the kids in Michigan. Don’t want to work. All my children found good jobs and they are doing well. I notice you and I appreciate. You noticed me.
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I guess I shouldn’t say there aren’t jobs here – there are, but I would like to work as a writer or what I went to school for. Unfortunately, you need more experience than I have to get the career I want, if that makes sense. I am so grateful for your kindness to me; it truly puts a smile on my face.
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Hello dear Isabelle. I love your work and I am glad you befriended me. I enjoyed your past work this evening. I hope you are doing well and having some fun.
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Thank you so much. Your poetry is so interesting to me. I love the stories you weave. You have such a strong, narrative voice.
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Was my pleasure and you are welcome dear Isabelle.
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