Tate Lewis-Carroll Poetry

I will sometimes wake up to scraps of poetry I wrote in my sleep—sometimes there're coherent, most times not—& the other night I must have slept-wrote over some notes I had already taken. Aesthetically it's kinda cool to look at, but impossible to untangle. Beware the dangers of sleeping besides a nearly filled notebook lol

Leaping for joy outside in front of my broadside. Liz (owner) said, "You jump a lot. I remember you jumping at the release party for What's Left." She's right! So here's me, leaping for poetry on two separate occasions, maybe in the same pants, at the charming, local Bobzbay Books. Thanks for always catching me in the air, Iz 📸

(Isn't this what Robert Bly meant by "Leaping Poetry?")