Open Studio Poem #3: USE THE WHOLE PAGE
The point is growth toward beginning.
Start again—nothing flat or square—
this time learn to move in three
dimensions—cubic, spherical. Can you
write like a dancer? Paint
like an actor? Draw like—
a potter? Remember knitting—
how to turn a heel, shape
a sleeve from a strand.
DO THAT WITH WORDS.
USE THE WHOLE PAGE.
FILL IT WITH SHAPE AND
COLOR AND SOUND AND FLAVOR—
BITTER GREENS AND HOT PEPPERS
AND LEMON ZEST. WRITE
BIG AND ROUND.
USE THE WHOLE PAGE
OPEN STUDIO POEM #4
final granite light synchronize
Rilke said, “No feeling is final.”
Not even granite is permanent—
it crumbles and weathers into parts.
And isn’t it a fine thing
that nothing stays the same?
Time is after all unsynchronized space,
shifting into shapes that cannot last.
Therefore, do not fret.
Keep your touch light,
or maybe don’t touch at all.
Simply breathe.
A few years ago, I was mentor for a high school student working on poetry. We did assignments together. Here is my poem about the vowels.
A shaft of orange light, unexpected
before the end of
a long gray day
Eel black, luminescent
through the thick green river
I am winter-pale peach,
being, thatched with white and black
O luminous apple-green:
Mutsu, Greening, unripe Mac
YoU are fresh and blue,
tinged with the scent
of summer clover
And Y is it sometimes silver,
sometimes jade,
flickering just on the edge
of visible light?
Dec. 12, 2006
POMP
The word plumps.
Gold-chained, well-fed Aldermen
stalk in solemn procession.
Corsetted contralto Presidents
of Ladies’ Literary Societies
squint through lorgnettes.
Lord Bishops finger their pectoral
crosses with aplomb.
GladErrand 