Archive for April 2012

“Meeting of the Minds” – Day 2 of National Poetry Month

April 2, 2012

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In past Aprils on this blog, I have posted a draft poem a day in honor of National Poetry Month.  Some of the poems are pretty rough, but the commitment is a fun tool to get one writing poetry and I urge you to join in on the exercise.  Here’s today’s:

Meeting of the Minds 

I never knew, she says, that a body stayed warm
so long. You know.

Me neither, I say.  I didn’t know
either. 

Now we are silent, confirmed in
what we both know, but without a clue
as to what comes
next.  


As always, I welcome and very much appreciate your comments and suggestions, particularly since many of the poems I will be posting this month will be still-in-progress!  That said, if you want to read work of mine that is finished, please please please check out:  my very silly but fun novel, NOSE DIVE,  my book of poetry, GOING ON SOMEWHERE, or my children’s counting book 1 MISSISSIPPI. )

Hooray for Myammar!

April 1, 2012

I am so happy tonight to read the news about the election in Myammar/Burma of Daw Aung San Suu Kyi. (She’s the one with the beautifully thoughtful and patient face.) After fifteen years of house arrest, she has been elected as a member of Parliament.

So many congratulations to Myammar! Who knows what will follow. Difficulty undoubtedly, and disappointment. (The army is still overwhelmingly in power.) Nonetheless, Ms. Aung San Suu Kyi’s election is a miracle and surely a step forward.

I feel great affection for Myammar, which I can’t help thinking of as Burma. I was there many years ago for a seven day maximum journey.  (More on that some other time.)

Burmese Buddhas have sweet and beautiful faces, with the slight compression of determination around the eyebrows.

I am so happy that there is more hope in those faces tonight.

(PS – apologies for awkwardness of my portrait.)

“Man Nesting”- Finding Inner Child (The Crawling Didn’t Quite Do the Trick)

April 1, 2012

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The above is my pictorial take of Tess Kincaid’s photo prompt for The Mag this week;  the original photo was by ParkeHarrison.  And here’s my verbal take:

Man Nesting

He felt like an idiot.

They’d taught him to crawl again; now this.

The crawling had been a bitch; he’d ruined three perfectly good pairs of pants–(yes, they said wear knee pads.  Yes, they’d suggested jeans.)  But the jeans chafed, and who has knee pads hanging around–

You need to find your inner child, she’d insisted.

You need to find your inner adult, he’d hissed back.

But she’d wheedled, wept, then even moved out for a couple of weeks, and had the softest skin ever at the nape of her neck, and a smell that even now as he shut his eyes over the brittle earth scent of mud-crusted stick–(the words “bird spittle” flashed for a single alarming instant)–

–that, even now as he shut his eyes over the scratch of crusted twig, made his whole being ache, rejoice–the feel of her side beneath his palms. He  held the nest sides gently to not further crush the construct, feeling the callouses at the sides of his hands as if he himself were the branches, broken, bound together —

–even as he shut his eyes, lowering this last still-good pair of pants into the wound wood curves—it was a nest, yes, a one-man nest–where did they come up with such things? 

He had said, please, when he found her–he had said, don’t leave me; he had said, ever.  (He hadn’t been able to help himself, the anger whooshing instantly into need).  He had taken her face in those slightly roughened palms–

Tracked with tears, that face had nodded; his own eyes filled too, like a child’s.

So, now, he settled his crooked pants over the annoyance of straw, clod, bristle, knowing knowing knowing, even without this further lesson, that when he went home afterwards, she’d assure him, with both arms, that she saw a difference already.

(Have a great Sunday–check out all the great writing at the Mag, and if you’ve got time, please please  also check out my comic novel, NOSE DIVE,  available on Kindle for just 99 cents and in print for just a bit more.)