Hi. So, it happened. I missed two days. Life happens. Weddings and post-wedding fatigue happen. I was feeling discouraged earlier, like I should stop doing this altogether, because who am I kidding? Then, I got miracle pep talks from my daughter, and then my husband, and they told me not to give up. So here I am. I’m not going to stress about the fact that I couldn’t poem yesterday, or the fact that I officially haven’t posted every day this year. I thought poetically and noticed stuff each of those days, and maybe my intention is what counts.
The neighbors seem to be shooting off some kind of canon. At first I thought fireworks, but the sound is too deep and loud. North Idaho. Sometimes you hear gunfire, sometimes fireworks, sometimes a canon.
So, I have two poems to post and one to write, and the post-wedding, post-vacation weariness have yet to wear off. So, I’m doing it, but I’m flying blind. Could I write a poem about how sore my body is after sleeping in a tent now and how that makes me feel old? Or a place poem, about Blodgett Canyon, where the wedding was? Or, frat guys? My husbands fraternity brothers are very different from the frat boys I knew in college. They are from a prestigious and private liberal arts school, so they are the smartest ones I’ve met. And! And! Their wives and girlfriends have NO trouble showing off their cleavage, bless ’em, so I got to do it without feeling a bit self-conscious. HP was delighted.
I have little poem shards jotted down, but nothing put together yet. Just have to get started, I guess.
6/28 Blodgett Canyon Wedding
We drove past the college town, headwaters of our love. We slipped it on like a jacket. There’s where we went that one time do you remember how it rained? The celebrations of others make us think sweet, and soft, and sly, smug even, at our love that matches theirs, and theirs is new. Ha. Hee. Clearly “the universe loves us and is our bitch”, it makes us want to take up the microphone and make speeches about color tv. How once it happens you never go back. And it is fun to show everyone how it deepens like the canyon, the one just across the valley from the reception, Blodgett Canyon that took years of constant flow to cut its permanence into the crust, how it can last and last and last, how new rain mixes with old rock, how we last and last and last.
They have their own rules, and theirs involve paddles. They are the smartest brothers I’ve ever met, who met in college, who love in the sound of the ball on the table, who talk of spring breaks in in canyons in Utah, no girls gone wild, wild girls, sure, but there are no stereotypes here, stories of singing the Little Mermaid accapella . No hulking brutes, no grunting or can smashing. There are artists and scientists and teachers, who go giggly at the sight of the table, and flit about the table with impossible agility, especially given their ages. These are the hugs that start with the hands grasped and brought against chests, hands clapped on backs, these are the guys whose love gets a bad rap, and they haven’t talked much over the years, but that doesn’t matter when the celebration calls them in from many states away, the distance never matters when the fraternity calls. They will come to celebrate love and play the games their muscles remember like walking, silly, and sweet, and dear.
6/30 Social Anxiety
The dance floor with its crowds and its shaking millions would be better without anyone in it. Maybe also if it could lose the flashing lights, and transport you to the banks of big water where it crashes into the rocks, alone or nearly alone under these same big stars, it might be tolerable. Hi, great or limp handshakes, hi new pretty girlfriends or fiancees, hi parents and newlyweds, not at all daunted. we have on pretend clothes and eyes and makeup, and still it comes time to step out of the car, to pretend it doesn’t all make us want to creep back in again, to smile and talk small while all the while looking for quiet, dark places. This is why we break over mountains, and if those are there for us to gaze on, loose goes my tongue.
So, the quote in the first thing is Mcklusky. Those are some poemy-poems. Tomorrow’s will be better. ‘Night poemfriends.