[we are what was]

the blue haze of her,
a silver cool shower
from her wrists and ears and neck,
chime in wake of her walk.

her easy smile,

cheeks like

a smoothed bed

fitted with flannel.

she's someone's daughter,
someone's mother,
someone's gran,
living these many lives at once.

all of her
became the world she walks,
the conduit of time and creation,
her bravery seems reckless.

i try her softness on,
the way she hums along,
another way to breathe,
and to be.


[about this poem]
this poem was inspired by a woman i saw walking down the street in our old neighborhood. a lot of older folks live in the area, and are not always as at ease with the speed and tone of city life. the woman i saw seemed really satisfied with the world around her, which made me think of her as taking a tour of the world she orchestrated into being.

stay tuned for new posts wednesday and thursday this week

hello all,

traffic school came between us yesterday, and for that a million pardons.

look for fresh posts tomorrow and thursday*

love, 

bree

reading a poem

i think you might agree with me here -- read a poem under the wrong conditions, and it's just a turn-off.

i'm not sure about you, but the only times i really enjoy reading poetry is when i'm completely focused on it (forget multi-tasking), and expect nothing of the poem itself. that way, i can really read line by line and eventually come out of it understanding or feeling something. of course there's never a guarantee you will get anything out of a poem, but when you do, it feels a little like meeting your best friend for the first time. it's really grounding, really gives you a sense of belonging.

one of my favorite places to read poetry is at peet's coffee, where all the rumblings and classical music make the poem seem like a part of the world. total silence also works -- it depends on my mood. i've learned to take one poem at a time, and never try to read a whole book in a sitting. i can't make myself read poems that i don't respect or language that feels wrong. but when i find a writer's voice that i really love, i can sit down an read 48+ pages in a sitting...no problem. and when that happens, it's really exciting!

which brings me to my writer's crush on the poet mark ford. (don't tell my husband; i don't think he ever reads my blog! ha!) he's the only british person, place or thing that i've liked in a long time. click here to read one of his poems. hopefully i'll get you started on a mad crush, too.

what i love about his work: he takes me by surprise, and always choses the unique path in his word choice. he's humble about his cleverness, and doesn't abuse it. the meanings of words and metaphors are layered, so a bodega is also a woman's pregnant belly and a state of mind. (wow!) it's really difficult to do this kind of writing well. his adjectives are dark, and sometimes sort of gothic -- "wax-like drops and pools," "webby darkness" -- which suits his subject matter...the birth experience that haunts the narrator. 

to read a good poem feels like you're getting closer to someone else, when you're actually just closer to yourself.

*thanks to nytimes.com writer david orr for his recent article "oprah's magazine adventures into poetry", which inspired this post. it's funny, and got me thinking!

shapeless destination

i'm catching you a little later than planned today; i hope your monday was a good one.

mine started off slow, but ended with some exciting news -- one of my poems has been accepted in Welter, the university of baltimore's literary magazine! i'm not yet sure of the print date, but i'm very proud.

here's a new, short poem:
[shapeless destination]

rare to keep its sheen,
love's dimensions bend
until it's stronger.
we know,
we can feel it through our hands --
our beginning's over --
but its residue on every day,
that path of smoke,
that leads us closer
to some shapeless destination.

about this poem:
speaking of lit magazines, this poem was originally written as a response to a prompt, the word "beginnings," provided by a lit magazine. i missed the call for submissions deadline, so i'm working on extending it into a poem about love. the poem takes place once the narrator is past her initial understanding of love, and learning slowly about what she doesn't understand. and, since that information never comes to us in a convenient package, her impressions will be kaleidescopic...

my uncle, published author

i'm not the only writer in my family.

my uncle dicky (otherwise known as author richard chaffer) has written several books over the past 15 years. last year, he met a publisher at a local book festival who was really interested in his work. since then, he's been working with them, and they've decided to publish not one...but three of his books!

his fiction focuses on a subject close to him that most people aren't brave enough to talk about -- schizophrenia. his first book, walkabout, runabout, is an honest account of his experience living with the disorder.

more than 24 million people in the world have schizophrenia. so, it's likely you know someone who has it, too. if you'd like to know what your friend or family member is going through, then walkabout, runabout might really help. it's now available on amazon.com.

needless to say, i'm really proud of him for his tenacity through this whole process. though i worked for years in the publishing industry (and am sort of a book geek besides), i've learned a lot from talking to him about the publishing process and seeing him work through revision after revision with his editor.

congratulations, uncle dicky!

there is room for you

there is room for you
filled now with sun's rays and sighs,
no doors to stop them.

our lives are big, our things are small,
there is room for you.
we sit only in small chairs, eat from small plates --

we're hungry, but waiting chokes the air.
it is big but you would be small.
you would fit, there is room for you.

our home is small,
even your small body
would roll quickly across it

through the open space.
you would be the biggest thing here,
except our smiles.

there is room for you,
and a life that fits
whoever you are, and will be.

about this poem:
ray and i are trying to become parents, and having setbacks. today is the day of a big test, so just a little poem of love and positivity. enjoy, and thanks for all of your good wishes!

the 21st century poet

i spend a lot of time reading poetry books, and almost the same amount of time researching online, trying to learn about the poetry world. i feel like i have a lot of catching up to do!

the world is changing, and poetry right along there with it.

*the growing trend in writing twitter poems. take a peek at the poems submitted by four famous poets in honor of world poetry day. i think it's pretty great that poets made up a new form (one of many!) to mirror the latest way to communicate. it's the new haiku, i guess?

*a student at bryn mawr wrote her student thesis about poet marianne moore (who graduated from the college in the early 1900s). the interesting thing her project is available online, and it shows the original poem next to the student's interpretation, plus other relevant historical info about the poem. it's so super nerdy, but i love that the academic world is sharing with the rest of us.

look for some new poetry in next monday's post. 

be well,

b*