The Marathon journey continues. Search under the category Day Trip Poetry Marathon 2018 for earlier entries.
I started off the Marathon session on Monday, October 30, and finished it on November 2, a record for the most stretched-out Marathon session ever. Here’s how it goes:
Monday – at Montco, Brendlinger Library – I edited last week’s poems and worked on the Minuscule book (Here is College Hall today, no change from Monday!)
Tuesday and Wednesday at home – I finished up the Minuscule book and submitted it for a proof copy.
Thursday – I put the poems I have accumulated for my current Marathon book (planned to comprise poems from 7/1/18 to 12/31, including the Large Artist Sketchbook, but not the Little Vines written during this time) into a preliminary book format. Oh dear, I thought – so many of these poems need some more work. I started that process as well.
Friday – today, 11/2, I went to Montco in the morning to work on more Sketchbook poems – I’m making good progress through the book as I really enjoy creating text for images as I am doing here.
I arrived at the library nice and early – it was a dark day, windy, but warm, and look at the trees – you can see them turning now. It has seemed to happen all of a sudden.
Take a quick look at this light fixture in the Science Building – I’ve never noticed it because it’s never been lighted when I was here, bit with this dim day, I could enjoy it.
I wrote all morning
and then headed to the grocery store café for working on Little Vines in the afternoon.
I’m liking this split location idea for the stage I’m in right now in my writing, which is working to finish up many loose ends.
I reflect on my writing life a good bit right now. I am trying to feel out what I want to be doing in 2019, as I have said, and how to adjust my writing to changes in my everyday life, whether ones I make on purpose or ones that have just…happened. I am sure it will be an evolutionary process, but I’m a schedule maker and a planner, and I do better with boundaries and parameters (even if later I push through the fences I have so carefully made!).
This process parallels the one I am going through in my art-making life. Many things have changed for me in the last year. It’s disconcerting to know the wind is blowing in a new direction and yet not be very certain how to work with it – but…it’s also stimulating. All I can do is hope.
All right. Here are some samples from today’s work.
A shadorma for the Large Artist Sketchbook 2018.
out in space. We stand
safe blue sky
naïve to our good fortune
in arriving here
Large Artist Sketchbook 2018
Luckily I sleep well almost all the time. But when I don’t…
In the middle of the night
before I could get a good comfortable nightmare going
one that could make me sit up in bed and scream
before I had time to ask for some disturbed sleep
the kind that makes trouble for a tossed-over pillow
before I rounded up any sheep to count
and sent them over a cliff into a rocky murk-green sea
I waited my turn for a bad night’s rest
lying in bed trussed up in the sheets like a pre-dead mummy when
all at once I heard the refrigerator motor start up
miles away down in the kitchen but deafening
pounding in the matte-black darkness
the hall light off and it was the cat lying on my arm
the only thing keeping me supine in bed
instead of nose and toes stuck into the ceiling
the result of an involuntary and forceful levitation. And then
fresh tonight, yes, but
really it was old news repeated
by insomnia so many times before:
I can manufacture my own nightmare
forget the sleep
forget the night
forget turning on the light to chase it away
just lie there and take it.
Little Vines. Usually I only post about half of the ones I write, but…today I didn’t feel like cutting any at all. Here is the whole crowd. Be warned, they are numerous.
I won’t take no for an answer
little beige bald man
because kicking down doors never gets old
you sent though the mail
blacked me out
the analysis of the empty silverware drawer
imagine a math problem
six guys plus six bowls of chili plus zero spoons
the pink walls in the stairwell
I compare it to a nebula
the power surge part of the building
bald head oily smile or
thin-lipped arrogant reptile mouth
Your new doctor. You’ll have to make a choice.
a swimming pool full of nuclear waste
so sparkly and so deep
it put our town on the map
recharging batteries and kind of loopy
I found relaxation
following a regimen of destabilizing malicious gossip
Eventually I got the message
Low flow criticism
like water flowing through semi-clogged pipes
anywhere on a good day could be anywhere
maybe maybe maybe
the spin doctor twirled another sentence at us
emphasis and echoes
yes, he said, this is my life’s work
just a passing buy
I’m not passing by
a fearsome thought
people who are single
are as free as a bird
we’re going to need a list
there’s no such thing
as no regrets
I don’t have the first clue
what’s broken now
All I am sure of is that she is furious
Your credit card
the lab results came in early
I’ll be meeting you in a little while
I worry about you so much
a surly bear of a man
a length of rebar
met to talk things over and to make some plans
a generous gift
the guests leaving early
Yeah I was tempted but I didn’t touch a hair on their heads.
You want to talk about directed behavior patterns
when a similar thing happened to me
I panicked and hid behind the water heater
I’m not sure what you are suggesting
so let’s concentrate on this question instead
what caused the collapse of her carefully constructed hairdo?
a lot of smart people
ambivalent and downright swervy
sitting in the office doing paperwork
Being a ghost
he had his own agenda
that’s why he worked nights in a cemetery
multiple cartons of milk
souring in unison
something sure smells
the decades of wear and tear on your teeth
suddenly I recalled a previous obligation
I am not troubled by your shady past
your poor maintenance
I am interested in the mythology of you.
wonder why we never see
being friends with appetites
a look through a giant telescope
of my sense of self into the starry sky
on the heels of the man in the gray jacket
the rain shower
spattered the white concrete gray
her grandson is sitting in the bar
in an error of judgement
she is devoted to that charlatan
handshakes and a signed contract
now we have a brand new
not-too-professional way of making a living
drinking beer and nothing is exactly like we thought
oh yeah and very sad
the dynamics of jealousy are eating us up
get in a car and drive somewhere
toss myself off the grid
do you remember how honest I used to be?
How did I end up here in a bowl of cereal
it’s all over my head
said the fly working hard at the backstroke