Saturday in the Park… I think it was the 4th of July

 

No it’s not yet July but for some reason this song has been looping through my mind this morning. Thank you Chicago! I suppose it could be worse, after all I am a big fan of Chicago but I generally don’t like anything to loop through my mind. Certainly that is the case this morning. We have an Ozone alert today so it’s probably not a great day to be at the park anyway.

Instead of the looping, let me turn to my journal and look for a few tid bits from this past week and maybe I can get this out of my head.

• “The writer, when he is also an artist, is someone who admits what others don’t dare reveal.” - Elia Kazan
• “All my life famous people have been dying from a distance/up ahead just over the curvature I see the tops of them on approach/the distance is narrowing”
• “a fan chops the humid air/throwing it back in my face…
• “This free market thing/how is it working for you?/Mowing the lawn is getting pricey”

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The Right Person–The Right Time

                                                                                                

The announcement of the newest poet laureate offers some contrast to many of the past. Natasha Trethewey is by no means the first woman laureate but she joins a rather short list women who have held the post. It is equally noteworthy to me that she is quite young as poet laureates go. At 46 she is actually older then I had thought her to be, still many laureates enter the office in their 70’s or 80’s.

Yet another significant aspect of Tretheway’s selection is the regional flavor her work brings. She is from the South and much of her work is laced in history and people and times in the South. Merwin and Hall for example were poets that had geographical ties but there work could probably be described as more universal.
While universality in poetry is a good thing, some times there are stories to be told that are more parochial. That need to be part of the national dialogue. That without, we as a nation are not whole.Natasha Trethewey is a powerful voice that has been informed by a unique life story.

I’ve read some of her work over the past couple of years and heard much more in her own voice on NPR and the Poetry Hour on PBS. From some of the talk on Facebook I gather she has flown below the radar of more poetry readers then I would have guessed. That being the case, her selection is even more significant because she a voice that is worthy of being heard.


Technorati Tags: Natasha Trethewey,poet laureate

Confession Tuesday

Dear Readers:

It’s been another one other one of them… a week.  So here I am before you to offer my week’s confession. To the box….

I confess that this has been an emotional week. My son’s bulldog Hoss was put down. My daughter’s pet rat Mason was put down.  I confess that I don’t like the words put down. The phrase seems quite ugly to me. 

I confess that I went to see Dark Shadows and found it in some respects charming. The music from the 60’s-70’s period was a walk down memory lane that I really enjoyed.

I confess that I’ve grown tired this week of some people that allow their actions to be governed by egos larger then buildings. Adult bullies are no different than young bullies. In fact, there is something really lacking in them, that they reach adult age and have such an inversion of maturity and ego.

I confess that I returned two library books late.  I always want to sneak in and just leave them when they are late which is so silly because I’m still going to pay a fine for them being overdue. I just feel kind of dirty when I’m at that counter handing late books over to the librarian.

I confess that I’ve had several ideas swimming around in my head that want to be poems and that I really need to honor their wish and try to get them down on paper. 

That’s about it for this week…. till next time, enjoy each day ahead!

For Hoss

If you want to know why a tear is salty—

It‘s because salt is a mineral 

adding weight so tears run down our face

keeping us grounded in times of sorrow.

It’s because salt is a preservative,

a constant reminder what each day

together meant us.

In times of loss, however brave we seem,

the spring within us flows

because it comes from  having known.

Follow the bouncing ball...

I did...  I followed it to Target tonight.  This is one of two large balls outside one of the entrances of the Target Store. I chose to post the picture because this is a part of exercising my creative muscles.  Let me explain...

I've come to the realization that my creativity has suffered in recent weeks. Hell it's probably been stalled for over a month if truth be known and I decided it was up to me to do something about it. Of course this requires me to chart some kind of proactive plan.

In the car this morning I asked myself what I needed to improve my writing - I mean besides actually taking the time to write.  If my self-evaluation of my past few weeks has been that my poetry has been too little and less then satisfying, then perhaps my problem is like artistic atrophy. I think it is safe to say that I do feel my poetic strengths have been weakened and are feeling pretty light weight. So I decided I needed to start a creative exercise program.

My drive into the city then became a workout. I decided to pay special attention to things I encountered on the drive and think about them not simply what these things were - but how I saw them. The TV tower was not just a tall steel structure but as it poked through the clouds it was a portal into the heavens. So throughout the day, I've tried to be mindful of things around me and my exercise of the cerebral muscles was to see them in a new light.

My initial day of flexing my imagination went well. But like any exercise program the results don't come overnight. I'm going to follow the bouncing ball each day and see where the poetry takes me. Wish me luck!

LOOKING AT ONE POET'S PROCESS

How I Create: Q&A with Poet & Writer Samantha Reynolds

Only a year ago, in 2011, Reynolds pledged to write one poem a day to try to “be present” and not miss the fleeting first year of her son’s life. Now she wouldn’t know how to stop even if she wanted to. Bentlily has sparked a movement of people around the world to slow down and savor their lives.  Read Interview here.

Confession Tuesday - What day is it anyway edition?

Dear Reader:

It has been 2 weeks since my last confession. What a week anyway? I confess that my days have seemed like they have all run together for weeks now. Most of the time I'm scratching my head and wondering exactly what day it is.

Three day weekends usually make Tuesday like Monday to the Max. After work I've been busy with a lot of physical lifting and moving at home and this has created a viscous cycle. Tired when I get up -more tired when I get home and so on.

I confess that I am delinquent with library books.  I expect to be pulled over by the Library Police. I picture a female officer with her hair pulled back and thin black wire glasses.  She clears her throat and asks to see my library card. She reminds me I have books overdue and says she will issue me a warning but next time she will be forced to suspend my license.

I confess that my writing has been neglected recently. Less frequency. Out of my routine. It really has been hard amid all these run-together-days to tap into creativity. I know that I have the ability to tackle this problem and no one else. I need to make an effort to create some real defining differences to each day. Give myself a chance to be more observant - maybe get out for a short walk each day and try to stretch my mind to unlock the creativity that has been hold up and missing in my days.

Oh, and note to self... Trash pickup is a day late this week. Thursday - note to self. Trash to curb in two days.