Same thing happened today. All my political poems have been getting loud in the brainspace during the day, but then I get home and I’m tired and I have amazing, vibrant girlies, and all that give-a-damn gets busted straight to heck with the peace of my nest. So, I’m going to write a sweet, peaceful poem, cheesy as all get out, because joy more necessary than dark and snark, right now. Boo to the naysayers and death eaters.
My Seniors read Imagist poets this week. That’s where this will come from. They did good work with them. They see more images that we do. It’s true. A student put up the vocab words on the board today, and used circles instead of dots for the colon after the parentheses containing the part of speech today, like this camaraderie (noun):
Well, several students looked that those circles and asked: “Why is there a frown after every part of speech? #wowimagesandyoungeyes.
That was tangential. A place poem, then hanging with the ‘rents till HP gets home.
Clark Fork, ID, Latest October
Look for me
in late October on the bank of the Clark Fork river,
on a rock bench,
watching widened, the fallen leaves drown in slow ballet below the current.
White wings mirroring solo on the water and the sky.
Where is your flock, bird?
White tracings on Scotchman’s peak and the smell of it in the air
that sends the sound of blades on ice sloping downward,
vertabrae like moguls
and nostrils alive with foreshadow.
Look for me sitting with strong hands in the leaves and loam.
Look for me sitting with the waters.
Wow, the cheese and purple. That’s okay. It felt good. Happy Thursday, you.