Wait a Minute, Mr. Postman
Here I stand with this poem I wrote you my true love. All sealed up in a glassine envelope with a stamp. Now if I only knew which box would ensure you will receive my missive…
{ Category Archives }
Poetry
Poem Poem
Didn’t you just love “A Chorus Line,” that musical about putting on a musical?
No, me neither.
Don’t you just jam out to, “Rock Star”? That rock song by a rock band about being a rock star?
Yeah, a bit uninspired.
“The Dark Half,” the novel about the struggling writer, was a real page turner, wasn’t it?
I turned the first couple pages anyway.
Garland in “A Star is Born”?
I’ll be in the lobby getting more popcorn.
I’m thinking I may write a poem about being a poet.
Gripping, right?
Ok, nevermind.
Thank heavens we still have Shakespeare
Venus Rising
(written over Labor Day out for a pre-dawn run)
Venus rising in the eastern sky
Amber yarn stretching to my eye
Spun from the skein of the sun, also rising
Over tiramisu clouds
The mist of the morning, my shield
Last summer I was thrown in the kiln
Too many bubbles in the clay
A year of heat and pressure
Unlock the door, shards of terra cotta lay
Now I sit at the wheel, fresh, cool clay in my wet hands
Now I sit with cool clay
A Digital Denouement
9 more days and your last voicemail will expire tipping into the virtual void "just wanted to say hi" "kids, don't torture the cat!" I've listened to it a hundred times My replacement phone arrived last week, the third broken screen not containing the cryptc txt msgs - a quick connection not containing the picture of a broken arm not containing your ringtone, a perky jangle My wallpaper, back to whimsical moons and sea creatures Screen saver, blank screen (still have all of the photos) The festive boop of a buddy pounce when you sign in (the one that would cause me to drop everything) - quiet I've been driving in silence lately, too Maybe it will be days between the grinding stomach of your name in my inbox Maybe the chats over IM will be shorter The music will return So much shared, mediated by bytes and wires We had to come here
Decluttering
Spent the last half hour decluttering my room. I have had the urge to redo my room in a Japanese motif - earth tones, rice paper shutters, etc. Found this, given to me by a good friend who lost her husband last year. They were deeply in love for 20+ years. This theme has rattled around my soul for 10 months. I am thankful to have come across it so lucidly put today:
At least, my dear
You did not have to live to see me die.
Considering how many things I did that must have caused you pain,
Sweating at certain memories, blushing dark blood, unable
To gather home my scattered thoughts that graze the forbidden hills,
I cut from the hedge for crook the one disservice
I never did to you,–you never saw me die.
I find in my disorderly files among unfinished
Poems, and photographs of picnics on the rocks, letters from you in your bold hand,
I find in the pocket of a coat I could not bring myself to give away
A knotted handkerchief, containing columbine-seeds.
A few more moments such as these and I shall have paid all.
Not that you ever–
O, love inflexible, O militant forgiveness, I know
You kept no books against me! In my own hand
Are written down the sum and the crude items of my inadequacy.
It is only that there are moments when for the sake of a little quiet in the
brawling mind I must search out,
Recorded in my favour,
One princely gift.
The most I ever did for you was to outlive you.
But that is much
-Edna St. Vincent Millay
Knowing, Full Well
This one emerged yesterday afternoon.
Projecting like the local multiplex…
(I prefer to think of it as daydreaming)
Empty vessel for now.
show/hide text
