You may be familiar with my Poetry Marathons – I’ve done them since January, 2015. I take a week, several times a year, and devote it to poetry – writing, editing, all poetry-related activities.
This year I have decided to do one segment of a Marathon each week. Two to three hours set aside for poetry, outside my regular life. It’s called the Installment Plan Poetry Marathon.
For more background information, look here. And if you want to read previous posts in this series, search this blog under the term Installment Plan Poetry Marathon 2017.
People, on this very hot and humid day, July 20, 2017, I am back at Logue Library at Chestnut Hill College. Parking lot and its surroundings was empty except for these geese:
I did see a large group of girls heading for the lower field – field hockey camp, maybe, or lacrosse, or soccer? And…I could hear the library’s giant roof air conditioner unit laboring away all the way from here.
I walked up this alley of trees to the stairs.
Guess what, the squash plant is still hanging on! I thought it might have succumbed to heat or lack of water, but it has a bloom on it once again. This lifted my spirits.
Once inside, I got settled on the third floor. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do today. I had three things on my list:
1. new poems
2. review/revise last week’s work
3. continue the process of setting up my next poetry book.
On the sharp-thinking scale, harder to easier, I’d rate these in the order of editing, writing anew, and book production. Oh dear. I was pretty sure I could expect even less cooperation from my brain cells today than I had thought – the heat, a jumbled schedule this week that spilled over from last week, waking up this morning from a dream in which, as the lead in a play, I had blithely ignored the need to learn my lines until the very moment of the opening curtain – and as a note, I’ve never acted in a play in my life, but I’ve had variations of this dream for some time…
You get the idea! I figured I’d better start off with hardest first. Editing, I decided.
So — I sat right down and wrote new poems, first thing. So much for a plan.
Here are some results.
This tree lives in my front yard.
Birch tree extends a branch
drapes it over your shoulder
leaves trailing a cool touch
along your sweaty neck
Just walking down the sidewalk
in and out of the summer sun
you were not expecting to meet a friend
We eat lots of watermelon in the summer.
about to reveal all
lounges on the kitchen countertop
fat and confident
You need to know what you like.
At the rusty gate’s gracious invitation
visitors approach my house
set in the residential version of a used car lot
furnished in the styles of forty years ago or
whatever could be found at the curb on trash day.
I was looking for the right kind of place.
I found it. Be careful what you wish for.
Perfection spoils you for everyday life.
Summer. If this is not you, maybe you know someone it fits? Not necessarily in all the details…
knock on that door
expect an answer
from a distressed woman
for the summer vacation
with three children
and not a bottle of beer in the house.
Now, some handwriting snippets. But first, I’ve got to come up with another name for them. Not snippets, because they are created in a different way from my (collage poem) snippets. They remind me of small artworks I do, post cards or artist trading cards. Sketches. I’m leaning in that direction. Sketches… Anyway, here are some from this session.
She kept everything in those boxes.
Never letting go had its price.
I call it revenge of the passive.
I am your guide
the person you have been waiting for
exotic and sharp as a tack
If it is a punishment you are waiting for
it is sitting in a pew three rows back.
Eventually you will have to look behind you.
headache never letting go
nerves stretched out skinny
need aspirin need one hundred aspirin
All right! Hope to see you next time. Thanks for reading.