Today is another Friday.
More than halfway through April.
How’d that happen?
I have to admit, I feel like this month has been a bit of a steamroller.
It’s hard to catch my breath.
Like today, I have at least seven things to say and it’s not even 9am yet.
Here goes.
1. The beloved Jules of Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast has woven together the most delicious post about the crown sonnet experience you read about here last week. She interviewed the whole bunch of us and then turned our individual ramblings into a conversation that is so fine I wish I woulda been there for it. Y’know? So go give it a read and thank you, Jules and Eisha, for being such hearty champions of all things poetical.
2. Yesterday was the first national Poem in your Pocket Day, a little stroke of genius especially near and dear to my heart since my first book was all about, well, pockets.
3. I carried two poems yesterday, one by each of little gals, in my pocket. What’d you carry in yours?
4. Austin’s Blanton Museum of Art, for which I wrote a villanelle this past winter, is planning to add a multimedia perspective to our ekphrastic endeavour. There will be audio and video clips of some of the poets reading their work, and discussion surrounding some of the art. Right now, there’s a fine little explanation of the project here.
5. This week we had a wild turkey on our roof. I kid you not. You guys, we live in the middle of a rather significantly-sized city. I haven’t written a poem about it yet, but I think I oughta.
6. If it weren’t for yoga this week, I think I’d have gone a little mad. Yoga, to me, is poetry of the body. It can save me in the same sort of way that reading an entire collection of poems while soaking in the tub can.
7. And here’s why I’ve needed it so badly. Our strides toward aesthetically pleasing and everlasting domestic bliss continue. This week we’ve been without power for 2-and-a-half days. I got some insulation on my hands and got all prickley itchy. It rained last night on our outdoor kitchen. And my husband and I haven’t always agreed on what we believed we’d previously agreed on.
You’ve heard of the many divorces that were kick-started by remodeling projects, right? Well, we’re not going there, I assure you, but there have been a few moments of… um… totally-flabbergasting-what-were-you-thinking-don’t-you-know-me-at-all-how-could-you-frustration.
In a nutshell, he knows what he’s doing. He designed the project, can picture it perfectly and has done a good bit of the building on his own off hours. I do not know what I’m doing, although I think it’s fun to look at different colors of linoleoum. My spatial understanding is remedial. At best.
So. We’re getting there. Thanks to yoga. And poetry. And, sappy as it may sound, love.
This one’s for him:
my love is building me a building
— e.e. cummings
my love is building a building
around you, a frail slippery
house, a strong fragile house
(beginning at the singular beginning
of your smile)a skilful uncouth
prison, a precise clumsy
prison(building thatandthis into Thus,
Around the reckless magic of your mouth)
my love is building a magic, a discrete
tower of magic and(as i guess)
when Farmer Death(whom fairies hate)shall
crumble the mouth-flower fleet
He’ll not my tower,
laborious, casual
where the surrounded smile
hangs
breathless
I feel for you on the remodeling project, Liz. My spatial understanding is below remedial, and my husband and I built a whole house together. Definitely a true test of the strength of a marriage.
Of course after 9 years, the house still isn’t finished. But neither is our marriage.
I love that, Jama. That is such a sweet way to look at it. Marriage before house, right?
You’re making me get misty, Liz. Your two little gals’ poems in your pocket, and e.e. combined with your love for your husband. Oh, just stick me right in the heart with a plank of wood!
Thanks for the seven things—and oooh…to that promise of video clips of your villanelle…
I’ve been a little misty myself of late…
You have me a little teary over this post my dear! What a perfect poem for your darling and how sweet to carry your girls’ poems in your pocket. Today is a magical day all around.
yep. Most days are, aren’t they??
As I have said before, been there – done that. I am sure you will land on your feet, but still…. us cats should stick together.
BTW: When my four and a half month remodel was finished, we found termites two months later in the new part of the house. It took all of our power to not scream like crazy.
Oi.
That is so ugly.
I’d have gone ahead and screamed, I’m pretty sure.
wow Liz, that is some interview. You guys ARE rock stars. deeply impressed.
big love,
shannon
Thanks, Shannon. But I’m gonna need new clothes and sunglasses if I’m hoping for the rock star thing to stick…
gotcha covered…….
oh, that was me 😉
k
There’s a Poem in Everything
Elaine,
In addition to a turkey poem–I think you have enough material for a potential series of “remodeling” poems.
Ah, the joys of having your house torn apart! In 1994, just a few weeks before I left for a two-week trip to China, workmen tore the rear part of the roof off our house. We were enlarging the bedrooms on the second floor. My husband, daughter, and I had to sleep on air mattresses in the living room for three months.
Beautiful poem choice, Liz.