…is on the streets, where I often am, whenever I’m not with the nuns:

that The Word is alive.

It lives in you and meWhenever our divinely astute readrrrly eyes meet.

The reason for this section of our record is so that I may share with you my word, which, though lower than lowercase, is always spoken from the upper casings of Love, crooked-up from my heart, as it is a mouthpiece of the Lored of Love.

Readrrr, I do wish to give you Your (Mary) Daly Wickedary Entry, though it may not be daily. So: a poem. An ever-changing shape of a never-changing love poem will appear here. And then it will disappear from here and be replaced by another changing shape. Because I am a poet who intends to continue publishing, I will only keep the poem I post in this section up for a short time. I will then change it and retract the poem to my private files intended for something other than self-publication.

The nuns, you may well know, love poetry. They eat it up.

This is for them, and for you, Readrrr, because I know you eat poetry as voraciously as the starving, howling nuns.