Posted tagged ‘manicddaily’

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

March 14, 2013
IMG_3737

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.

**************************************
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
IMG_3382

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

20130312-083240.jpg

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.

***********************************

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

20130311-115236.jpg

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

20130310-071955.jpg

Worry During Wartime

March 9, 2013

Worry During Wartime

I listen to cheerful bagpipes–a silly indulgence
at dusk, a scissoring
of frenzied buzz, blurred knees, imagined whipsaw
of pleated plaid, swirl of too much
warmth swallowed, my forehead aching
at the sudden undertones
of those other bagpipes, the ones that
line up in plaintive rows,  inexorably even
in height of hem,
step,  drumbeat–a tuneless
six feet below turned
earth, church on green
or granite, too much warmth
swallowed.

Try not to think
about it.  Should think about it,
but try not to.

 **********************************************
Draft draft draft poem for the dVerse Poets Pub Poetics prompt by the most wonderful Brian Miller and the also most wonderful Gretchen Leary.  Gretchen suggested writing to music.  I have. 

Still Winter (with elephant)

March 9, 2013

20130309-012754.jpg

At first, I thought this was just a beautiful photograph of icicles but then I took a close look at those icicles….

20130309-012808.jpg

(As always, all rights reserved in photos and text….and elephants.)

Friday Flash 55

March 8, 2013

20130308-120716.jpg

20130308-120802.jpg

20130308-120820.jpg

20130308-120921.jpg

20130308-120934.jpg

20130308-120946.jpg

20130308-120957.jpg

Posted for the inexorable (and incomparable) G-Man!  Have a great weekend.

“Home”

March 8, 2013

Home

Last visit, her face was swollen, foreshortened by
pink scarf, but her cheekbones (Cherokee, she told me
when we were young) have now reasserted
themselves, her scalp refeathering.

You look so beautiful, I say, words she seems
to pick up, smile flickering,
until she turns again
to trying to sit, though we have
to catch and lift and
her husband
to support her,
which she cannot
bear for long.
I have to get up, she says,
I have to get out of this place.

He tries to stall, talks of brushing her hair
first, and for a moment, she leans
into his fingering
of brief curls, but then, determined, arching away,
I’ve got to get home.

You are home, he tells her,
in your own room, your own bed,
but she pushes now so hard
that we turn her legs, gather her arms, lift and walk
her to a chair, which despite whimpering
urgency, she cannot take, its chintz print
roses on vines.

Did you call the car? Tell him
to come right now?  You know you’ve got
to call it. 

I called it, her husband lies
as he holds her head close to slide down drops.
But I’ve got to go home, she cries, pulling away
from body, pain, still air.
Just stay for a bit, he whispers.

***************************************

I had determined to take a break from writing but I am posting this revised version of an older poem for dVerse Poets Pub “Meeting the Bar” prompt on home, hosted by the wonderful poet Pamela  Sayers (who writes of Mexico) and Victoria C. Slotto.  This is a poem that I have rewritten many times, never really able to get it right.  A different version can be found elsewhere on this blog and in my book of poetry, GOING ON SOMEWHERE, (by Karin Gustafson, illustrated by Diana Barco). 

Elephant Drawing

March 6, 2013

20130306-102832.jpg

For those who have been following the saga of my move and my internet losses, the wonders of partial home internet are now mine!  (Partial, meaning that it works wonderfully some of the time for some devices.)

But I somehow remain quite tired and brain-parched, with still too many tasks looming to think very straight.

All of which leads me to say that I may be going visual for a little bit.  Posting pics.  Recouping language (I hope).

Please do visit.  I will try to widen my sphere beyond elephants, but if you like elephants, you will probably find them.