The Marathon journey continues. Search under the category Day Trip Poetry Marathon 2018 for earlier entries.
On 9/6/18 I arrived at Montco, Brendlinger Library, on another very hot (95 F) day. Even the flags in front of the building were limp and tired in the heat.
I was a little later than usual because I had to do some chores at home before I came. I also planned to leave the library earlier than I usually do, so today’s session was set to be shorter than the typical one.
I decided to do an hour or so of speed-writing poetry – where I set a timer and just write non-stop until the time is up. This process produces very rudimentary work that needs to be edited or revised later on; but it is also a conduit into my uncensored thoughts or feelings – maybe since you are just writing along, well, your mind does come up with ideas to fill the paper, all on its own.
If nothing else it is an interesting way to see what you might be thinking about, and if nothing else twice over, there are always little nuggets to pick out and use somewhere or sometime else.
Then, of course, I wanted to include a Little Vines session.
A few days ago I sat down to think about the next phase of the Marathon 2018. If I followed the pattern I’ve set over the last 18 months, I’d keep doing what I’ve been doing and produce another volume of poetry at the end of it. However, this summer has been a difficult one and my mind is tired. I want a vacation from my routine. I’ve decided to use Marathon time from October 1 to put together this quarter’s book, to work on poems for my current Large Artist Sketchbook, and to put the Minuscule book in correct form so that I can continue illustrating it and publish it. I’d also like to do some Snippets poems – I have not done any of them for over a year.
I will also write new poems, but not as many, I think. Little Vines, well, they will continue on as usual – I am addicted to them. And I will be considering what direction my writing will take in 2019. I do know it is time for a change in the routine, but what? Well, we’ll see.
OK. Here is some of today’s work.
This shadorma came to me courtesy of the library café. (The food there really is pretty good but I am not so sure about the coffee.)
in line and
eagerly pay for breakfast
they’d throw out at home.
I drive past Holy Sepulcher cemetery every day, almost – it’s about a mile from my house. I was thinking of it as I wrote this poem.
In the cemetery
we walked across the open space
where no one had yet taken up
to reach the outpost that was
the grave we came to see
lost in the vast green
nothing. One day you’ll have neighbors
we told her, but for now
enjoy the view
and we set down a pot of geraniums
a present for her in her new location
stayed a few minutes more
retraced our steps
leaving the hum of cars on the highway
and the occasional bird call
to keep her company
I saw this scene on the way to the library today. For you local people, it was at the intersection of Highland Ave. and Bethlehem Pike, Ambler, PA.
Wheel her around that corner, lady
you are one hundred percent intent on making the turn
car window open bleached blond hair
sitting stiff on your head. Your blue sleeveless dress
shows off your arms yanking the steering wheel
the early sun spotlighting you in the driver’s seat
unlit cigarette in your mouth pointing straight out
aligned with your route and waiting for you
to get this turn over with and light up
that chimney fire
you could say it was a flue outbreak
but do you have to?
should I be surprised to see you
working behind the perfume counter
demonstrating a paralytic toxin?
the face belongs to someone you know
surely you recognize
the tiny bones of her ear?
that horn-blowing sound coming from my chest
it’s just my immune system fighting back
I think it’s running into traffic
that exposé was very complete
a wireless tinfoil hat
in cahoots with a satellite that has since escaped orbit
wipe that grin off your face
the key to our social interaction
is that you’re the guilty one here
We have skulls to keep our brains in.
No insult I don’t mean anything by it
I am not sure why you have a skull.
resist the ellipse
turn seven into twelve
sew the green twine seam
I told you I’d find out.
The oxygen so blue and fresh
buy me just that one more breath
Give me just that one more day with my old friend
did she just say it was contagious?
that ark scheme of yours
yeah I saw the numbers
now let’s talk about some truck rentals
I just have to get this off my chest:
darn you, why did you start that hunger strike
just when it looks like we’ve finally got a reliable pancake recipe
the untouchable insidious ubiquitous
ghost of that perpetually barking poodle –
won’t you at least consider trying an exorcism
you’d think by now
the radius of grateful
would have swept over her, but no
There is more than enough space
in outer space
I’d like to come back home.
the dust under the sofa
who are we kidding
it means more to me than my own family
Thank you for reading! See you next time.