Sometimes, it’s the simplest things, the tiniest moments that solidify a love, that highlight its worth. Sometimes it’s not grand gestures with boomboxes above our heads, it’s a brush of skin that never gets kissed, and the lips upon it. This poem, Typewriter Series #3069 is about precisely that, the tiny moments that shape what we call love, what we define as intimacy, more than all other things combined.

I write of these moments a lot, and back in the Land Before Covid, I answered this question many times at in-person book signings when people asked how I’d define my poetry. I always said, “I think I make the epic moments, the grand pieces of our lives that seem breathtaking and revolutionary, seem very tiny, while making the seemingly insignificant moments, the mundane things, seem epic, seem like they are the real answer to all things.” I stand by this, and it’s something I try to do not only with writing, but in my photography as well. I think life, and I think love, hide in these ‘blink-and-you’ll-miss-them’ seconds of our days. I wonder, and I wonder often, what would become of us if we stopped more often to acknowledge them. What if we treasured them above all the others? My goodness, what then? Here is Typewriter Series #3069.

A lean across, a reach,

skin of your arm

inches from my lips.

A kiss upon it

a glance of heat

just a moment

just a breath.

Intimacy

this,

some place not

made for

endearments,

some square inch

of body

that connects

us.

-Tyler Knott Gregson-

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