Poetry

It is as much a poet's job to listen, as it is to speak.   This is how I feel about poetry, which is why I will post poems by others along with mine.  When I post a poem from one of my books, I will note which one it is included in.


 October 1, 2010

Free-write in 3,2,1....

Inscribe skin with ideas for tomorrow
beliefs for the grandchildren
and stories for yourself.
Scratch an itch born before the womb
or apply modern miracles to squelch curiosity's razor.
It's time to take stock
inventory
Dewey decimal nervous system filing
memories while lightning crawls up your legs-
synapses curdled by rain
and dreams misfiled under Faith.
Tell yourself it's all in order,
every
last
little
bit of it.

Ice and prozac sympathize
and do what they can to pacify your one raised eyebrow,
smooth it over so one day runs into the next
and tomorrow is that ever distant day of redemption
somewhere beyond the stories laced to your throat.

 First entry:

Let's start with some Lucille Clifton:

some dreams hang in the air
like smoke.  some dreams
get all in your clothes and
be wearing them more than you do and
you be half the time trying to
hold them and half the time
trying to wave them away.
their smell be all over you and
they get to your eyes and
you cry.  the fire be gone
and the wood but some dreams
hang in the air like smoke
touching everything.

 From: Good Woman: poems and memoirs 1969-1980

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