August 15: Poetry (first drafts)
August 16, 2012 § Leave a comment
What is this blogging for, if not doing something that I am afraid of, if not making myself vulnerable? Today, after a long time, I got an urge to write. Were I a full-time writer/poet, I would be disciplined and write every day, probably always at the same time and place. Since I am not, I trust in inspiration, in accumulation of images, words, and ideas, which are then miraculously transformed into something else. So inspiration struck, in the middle of this high desert in Oregon, as it seems that the desert has always inspired me, and I wrote.
Like I said, sharing what I have written makes me feel vulnerable. Not to mention that this is an unpolished draft. But, because I am trying to, as the cliche goes, do one thing every day that scares me, here it is.
The serfs who plowed the land
not the peas
not their sweat or excrement
lived and died while the world stayed the same
in most ways
We go to bed up to date and informed
oh so painfully hip
and still wake up obsolete
Who will keep up
with the change
not Wonder Woman
not perfect woman
not exquisite mother
Intense disliking of our own circumstances
severe child envy
Why does mine scowl?
so color coordinated
While I chase shadows of tail ends of
or hippie ideals (I cannot decide)
of peace love music etcetera of festivals etcetera
of long limbs pink cheeks & profound understanding
of the rhythms of the deep earth
Not this porcupine armadillo child rolled in a ball
so amazing so encompassing you cannot see him up close
not even when he is ok
if he is ok
that he is ok.