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.
Here I am on September 13 at Logue Library, Chestnut Hill College. I arrived at 8 AM and took my place in the parking lot. I beat most of the students to school and it’s a good thing. I find diagonal parking spaces very hard to get into and I like to have room. Let me show you this accomplishment – I’m inside the line on the first try. Not the usual way it works.
As I walked through the parking lot I wondered why there was a coat hanger on the fence.
The squash is still growing in the wall. Looking a little tired, though. We need some rain.
Into the library.
Hello to Sister Maria Kostka Logue. I am sorry I took such a bad picture of her. The lobby was darker than I thought. I’ll try again another time.
I searched out a book Sister Maria wrote, so I could take it home, before I got settled. I’m curious to hear her voice. Remember, she has been dead for a long time; she was first president of the college in 1924, and this book is from 1949 or so. This is how I will hear her, through her written words.
I made my way to my 3rd floor desk.
I got things all set up. You see I have an extra sweater on the back of my chair – I’m wearing another one. Just in case that A/C powers up beyond a level one sweater attire…
I got to work. I will say I had a very hard time settling down. I think I’m not used to the increased level of activity at the school – I’m a little sensitive to the noise and commotion. I will adjust.
I worked on new poems first, then edited last week’s work, and then I went back to new things. As I said, I was easily distracted today. Here are some selections.
Honesty matters to me very much.
day and night
between bites of beef stew at dinner
for the pleasure of it
for the challenge of following the changes of expression
that guided the route of her lies
She lied as easily as a minister prays in church
a thief steals from an unlocked house
a bird flies in a calm sky
She lied to
her boss her childhood friends the parking garage attendant
She lied around a wad of chewing gum
through a plate-glass window
over the voices singing on an album of Christmas carols.
until the only truth left was that
Hitting the lottery, maybe?
the cash volcano
melts the frozen bank account
pays the past-due bills
Every funeral I’ve ever been to has been very sedate.
A brawl at his funeral
nerves are raw and then someone starts talking
insane little collection of memories from two decades ago
Friends, stand up and cheer
for anyone throwing a punch
as the rest of us forget we are too grief-stricken to talk
and the minister yells
calm down and let’s sing a hymn
Now, some Little Vines:
You’re welcome to stay for a week but that’s long enough
you listening to old music and crying all night
your vanity worn down all smooth and shiny
Thank you for coming home again, oh yeah.
algebra in my nightmares
two unknowns in each equation
a full moon three times a month
I stole a whole wardrobe of plaid wool pleated skirts
A crime of passion
It’s good and it just gets better.
fate or luck, I don’t know which one is worse
parrot or goldfinch, what does it matter as long as it’s a bird
soul or imagination, pretty soon you’ll figure it all out
fled for his life in a motorboat
we’re laughing, just laughing
we always thought a manhunt would be a lot of fun
in the darkness
one hundred small sounds of panic
cross mercy off the list
He has only half a heart
cut quite a few souls into pieces
some people crawl back up the food chain but he won’t
reading the ledgers full of red ink
her long thin pale-blue fingers trembled
while a whole truckload-full of souls waited
In the wrong hands
even a crockpot is dangerous
Ladle out some of that delicious paper pulp
Thank you for reading! Until next time.