The Marathon journey continues. Search under the category Day Trip Poetry Marathon 2018 for earlier entries.
An absolutely beautiful day today, that’s what we have.
I arrived at Brendlinger Library, Montco, on May 24 – in a sunshine-filled morning. The campus shows me that spring is really here.
Summer sessions have started at school and the library is quiet but not empty.
I looked at the new book area before I sat down and grabbed this book – I am always interested to learn more about clay handbuilding, since I do it myself. As a county resident I can check out items even though I don’t go to school here. A nice benefit.
I’m feeling restless today. I will be participating in an art show this weekend, three days starting tomorrow, and there is a lot of preparation for the show yet to do, and of course the prospect of long days ahead. I still get nervous before a show, even though I’ve been doing them for 25 years; this one in particular is a new one for me and so I don’t have a mental picture of the building layout and so on to rely on. I don’t worry about selling or my artwork; I worry about parking the car.
All right. Back to writing. New poems, Little Vines – yes. Possibly some work on the upcoming Little Vines 1000+ print book.
I’d also like to work on a Minuscule. I’m trying to write them on a regular basis so as to build my skill at “plot” and storytelling, and I’ve had no time this week for one. If I have learned anything in life, it is that practice, and regular practice, is needed to improve; plus, I don’t like the feeling of unfamiliarity I get when I re-enter a creative space I’ve neglected. Just another reason for the Marathon sessions!
Before I left, I set a couple of tiny face tiles in the stacks. The tiles I put out last week are gone.
Enough philosophy. Here’s a sample of what I came up with today.
I was exhibiting at the Moravian Tile Works last weekend for a clay tile show. This poem details a small incident that has stayed with me.
you built your nest
constructed in part
with Christmas tinsel
you found in May.
on the windowsill
wide enough but slanted out
perched on it
You laid four eggs
I was told
by the time I came along
I saw you
your unblinking eye facing me.
you are gone
the nest empty
one blue egg in the grass below
the tiny bird inside
your last baby
against the ants.
This poem was prompted by the word “veneer” which my eye picked up looking over a crossword puzzle.
The veneer on the table
went feral some time back
peeling off any old way it pleased
Drat this table
who would have thought a ceiling leak
would upset it so much? Anyway
now that it’s too late to bring it back to civilized status
We’ll just have to hope
it will still let us sit down and grab a bite off our plates
before it throws them at us
I guess. Look out
holiday dinner guests.
an ultra-friendly starfish spotted a pal
scrambled to greet him threw out his arms
it took some time but he grew better ones
the crust the pale underbaked crust
that scrambled fried-pea pie
I’d like nothing more than another slice.
I’ve always been vermin conventional
I drive an insectoid sports car
I read your thoughts I bite you in your wallet.
that set of poison-tongued roses
so backstabbing our aunts were
please come here and sit with me I want your skin
How often they said it. How often we heard it.
the sink in the bathroom
it’s just a little detour
and it does save you the bus fare
Surely I couldn’t have hallucinated it
a spiky little ball whirling around the planet
a satellite with my face on it
lines from an ancient play
footprints in the mud by the river
Well, I guess I do owe you a setback.
Sit down. I will pour some ketchup on your shirt.
Drop a concrete block on your toe. Cut your brake lines.
I don’t dislike meatballs
I find them confusing and rebellious
inside my stomach
something happened at that party all right
for one thing his brain is still missing
a little glowing red thing is what he’s using for now
I quite admire your backstabbing technique
the knife slips in smooth
cuts the icing right off the cupcake
My name is Weasel junior
a calm in-the-loop kind of guy
shhh I hear the concrete curing
stop trying to wiggle your toes
Thank you for reading! See you next time.