Archive for March 2013

Bear

March 21, 2013

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Bear

We were like two bears in the forest, destined
never to meet, only we did meet
and we weren’t furry or fat–
well, maybe a little love-handled,
except that we hadn’t been love-handled
so that when you touched me–you do have pale soft
hairs on the tops of your fingers–I shivered–
just like one of those bears stepping out
from under a waterfall or ducking down
to catch a fish, droplets arcing in finned
sparkle around my head–instead, we stood
in an abandoned hall, wooden closets
built into the walls, and only my nostrils moved, flaring a bit
with the dust; your hands as warm as a bear’s
certainly, only his would be pawed, and I
don’t know if bears put paws around each other
when they come out in early Spring, but when we met
in that wood hall, we barely paused in what was
warm, moist, musked, emergent
if you know what I mean–as if we’d each been stuck
in some dim den, as if we’d each
been hibernating, only we’d been awake
in our dens, lying so
unbearably alone and
sleepless.

Until, that is, we met,
like two bared, destined,
in a forest—wait, did I get
that right?

Yes.

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A blogging buddy cheered me up the other night by sending me a list of some very silly analogies written by High School students.  That thought let me to this poem which I am posting for the With Real Toads prompt by Susan re writing with an extended simile.  I am not sure that this qualifies but it was fun.  

Pea

March 19, 2013

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 What I tell myself

To find peace, I should become
like a pea (post-pod), wholly
self-contained (if plain), without hand
to go unheld, back
to hold too much.

Except, even footless,
I’d roll to some dim chink where
I’d dry, wrinkle, winkle out
a sprout–starting out somehow
again (though tendrilled),
clinging to anything
once more, blossoms
in search of busy.

So maybe best to leave be, not become like
pea–but let snagged jags sprout, as they do,
their ragged growths of
pain, astonishment, wrinkles—hands stretching
from each chink,
back crumpling
with stumble, feet finding pace
each roll, each
start-again.

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Kind of an odd draft poem for dVerse Poets Open Link Night.  I don’t know what the poem’s about;  I do like peas. (I don’t eat them with a knife.) 

After the Thaw

March 17, 2013

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Not meaning to be grim– though I spent all day working on things for my job, which does make me feel a bit grim on a Sunday night–but came across this in a nearby field, and thought, well, seize the day. And photo.

Green

March 16, 2013

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Green

I.

She viewed herself as blue,
in need of rescue, which may have been
why she saw the guy, older, as someone able
to treat her nice.
But she was green truly,
green as a moon-new lawn, green as damp
dancible grass that imprints with lightest
footstep, so that when he said, huskily, once
there was no way out, that he wanted to hurt her,
she tended, later, to tread hard
on that same pain, self-blame tracking it everywhere.

II.

He (a very different he, a young-man-he, soldier, from
a separate story), saw himself as
brown, tanned, taut-tendonned,
only he was green, green
as a sapling–stripped, admittedly,
and sharpened to pointed stick–but still a boy beneath
the bark, no cudgel–and when
blood spread red over every kind of viewfinder, including
his bared eyes,
he felt both the gouge and the puniness
of the stick that they had made of him, and there
was no wood where he might escape, nor
water either, not even
the vaulted sky.

III.

They felt grayed, faded (a different
they, yet another
story) –leathery–and were amazed
how the pain of things that had
no physical weight–mere words–could penetrate–as if
their many coats of wool, silk, cotton, years,
scar tissue, were butter melted by anything
that might be mouthed.

But for all the pallor, they were still green
inside, and when they held each other,
wept, they felt the stir of that
that will grow, seek light, of that
that also held them.

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I am calling the above a draft poem, because I just wrote it and have edited since posting and I feel like it could probably be cut and the first part (especially) fixed in some way. But I am posting it for dVerse Poets Pub’s Poetics prompt on “It’s Not Easy To Be Green” – which I am hosting. Please do check out dVerse and, if inclined, post a poem!

Also, if you have even more time, please do check out my books: Children’s counting book 1 Mississippi -for lovers of rivers, light and pachyderms. Or, if you in the mood for something older, check out Going on Somewhere, poetry, and Nose Dive, escapist but very fun fluff.

One World Trade (Looking Tall)

March 15, 2013

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A few days ago, I posted a picture taken of One World Trade Center, the replacement for the old World Trade Towers, taken at night in fog and looking very foreshortened. I thought people might find it interesting to see the building from a different perspective which shows it to be really very tall. (This picture was taken last night.) It will be 104 stories when completed and the tallest building in the Western Hemisphere. For a sense of perspective – the building on the far left side — the World Financial Center–is over 40 stories.

Cinquain on Nerves, Nerves on Cinquain (And Friday Flash 55)

March 14, 2013
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This elephant looks a litlte nervous. (It’s because I am including this caption in my 55 word count!)

Cinquain On Nerves

Sinking
stomach rising
to chest, slinking to loins,
groin, purloined to fight or flight–flight
mainly.

Nerves On Cinquain

Cinquain!
Sing me some peace!
Pacify with puzzling
those wracked synapses that capsize
night heart.

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Today has been a day of very stretched nerves, leading me to write  these paired cinquains for dVerse Poets Pub Forms For All Prompt on Cinquains.  See the great article by A.B. Maude (a/k/a Tony).  I also wrote them for the inimitable G-Man.  Do not tell him that I had to include the caption of my elephant in order to come up with 55 words.  

Quandary – Plea for Advice

March 14, 2013
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Thinking of PI–Whoops!

I taking a trip to India at the beginning of next month!   I am going to meet up with one of my daughters who has been having a very intense time working with a wonderful women’s labor collective there.  (More on that another post.)

Yes, it is exciting.  Yes, I feel incredibly blessed (i) to be able to make the trip, (ii) to have such daughters.

The trip will (inevitably) be an adventure, but is also intended as a break for both my daughter and me.  We will travel a little but not be truly touring.  I am hoping, in other words, to have some writing time.

My quandary – what to write.

I have a few old manuscripts of novels bopping around.  These are things I constantly put off truly finalizing on the grounds that I need concentrated time.

(But I will traveling in India, as in – concentrated time?  It is also a place where I just might want to look at something besides a computer screen.)

It will also be April – National Poetry Month–which I have used, in the past, as a goad to post a poem a day.

But there are these old manuscripts.  That I have wanted to finish for a very long time.

One is a fantasy novel that has an Indian-like backdrop – sometimes called “Butterfly,” sometimes “I For An Eye.”   It deals with issues of appearance, magic, empathy, forgiveness of self and others.  I have spent  years, off and on, writing and re-writing it.  It sometimes feels like a sick pet riding around on my back – something I have either to cure or put to a final “sleep”–something, in other words, that I need to address before getting involved with another pet.

But the fact is, I’ve cheated.  I have gotten involved with other pets – i.e. manuscripts.  And one of these–one that I’ve also thought of working on in India–is tentatively called “Outsider Art” and deals with things like self-image, the making and classification of art,  love, kidnapping, families, possibly country music, possibly HIV.  It  is in an extremely rough state with large chunks that haven’t been written, others that haven’t been typed (might even be lost at this point).

Then there’s the whole question of whether I should try to blog from India.  I can imagine blogging from India as being rather fun.  But the trip could also be a useful break from blogging. (And what about finishing those manuscripts!!!!)

I know it is a rather silly quandary.  There are people (including myself sometimes) grappling with true problems.

Still, it is a decision that has been difficult for me, at least, and one I think would be useful to make in advance. If, for no other reason, than to think through what kinds of electronic devices I should cart around with me.

I would appreciate any ideas, suggestions, absolution.  (I say, absolution, as I have a feeling the manuscripts will definitely lose out to the immediacy of everything else.  Agh.)

Still, I thank you.

P.S. – this is my post for PI day – 3.14 – the conundrum (to me) of what makes a circle round.  I feel like my not working on the manuscripts is almost as inevitable as PI.  Or, is it?

Lake

March 12, 2013

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Lake

Mist rises like fish jumping, like
heart thumping, like firs
sighing, like memory
crying, like
hope dying–not needed-not even
considered–like dawn
breaking, like love
making, like water curling in
upon its fall, like head on lap on
lips on lips on
hips, like you and me and fingers
fingering, a brush against a nipple,
or being brushed against,
like something somewhere sure
of joy, like
the thing itself.

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A revision of a poem from my book,  GOING ON SOMEWHERE, by Karin Gustafson, illustrated by Diana Barco (though the photograph above is mine and is actually of the Hudson River).  Posted for DVerse Poets Pub Open Link Night, hosted by the wonderful Claudia Schoenfeld.

Foggy

March 11, 2013

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I am not sure that I will be able to get a poem up today due to the press of life’s obligations and my own fogginess.   While I sort that out, here’s a photo (from last night) of the building that is being built at the old World Trade Center site (“Ground Zero.”)  This was originally called the Freedom Tower, now is called One World Trade Center.  Upon completion (some time later this year),  it will have 104 floors and will be the tallest building in the Western Hemisphere.  It is already (since April 2012) the tallest building in NYC.

Oddly, it doesn’t actually look that tall, even without the fog.

Snow-Feathered

March 10, 2013

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