October Poetry Month: Week 3...Largely a Bust.

This week, I didn't read or write much. I spent a lot of time at the hospital, trying to figure out what has me sick. On Friday night, I finally found out that I have strep. I've spent a lot of time in bed this week and haven't felt up to much. I keep wanting to read or write, but I hardly feel able. 

On Sunday, I wrote a poem called "When the Moment Comes," which takes the title and first line from Daniel Halpern's "Nature Lover's Lament" and images from his "Daughter & Chair."

On Tuesday, I did read The Dark between Stars by Atticus. It's not what I'd call literary poetry, but the photos are interesting, and I liked a couple of the itty bitty poems.  On Friday, I finished Bringing the Shovel Down by Ross Gay, my first book by him. I have a couple of his nonfiction books, which I'd like to read soon. One is called Inciting Joy. His poetry was not very joyful, so I'll be interested to see the difference in tone. The book did have some redemption, though. 

So I've read 15 books of poetry and written 14 poems. I have a long way to go! This challenge may dribble into November, but I still plan to go for 31 of each. 

October Poetry Month: Week Two.

Day 1: I finally read The Hurting Kind by Ada Limon. I just love her. I've read all but one (maybe?) of her other books of poetry. I started reading her work (and she became a favorite) before she became US Poet Laureate. I discovered her in Raleigh last year at a tiny bookstore, starting with Sharks in the Rivers. The Hurting Kind is my favorite of her books, five stars! Two five-star poetry books so far this month? Awesome. I'd like to reread all of her books at once, maybe in April. I hope she'll publish many new books in quick succession now that she's so famous. Interestingly enough, she also teaches in Queens MFA program! All these connections. I told Josh that I didn't know if I could respond to Love & F*ck Poems, but he told me to take it as a challenge. So I wrote "Introduction," a poem about my first sexual experiences (spoiler: they weren't positive). It's not nearly as graphic as some of Dimitriadis's poems, but I think I captured some of her desperation. The poem also made me recognize a latent belief that had been fogging up the back of my mind and finally spilled into conscious thought. That's something to work on and perhaps something to explore further in poetry...or at least in my journal. I stayed up quite late reading The Hurting Kind. I read several poems aloud to Josh as he fell asleep, and I finished the book in the bathtub. When I couldn't get to sleep, I wrote another poem, this one called "Jar of Scorpions," after Limon's poem of the same name. 

Day 2: This day was a bust. I was intensely exhausted, partly from staying up too late reading and partly from an emotional onslaught. I think the beginnings of a mood episode or a fight with this respiratory infection going around may be contributed as well. I decided I'd have to be more careful about sleep. So, I didn't read a book of poetry or write a poem on this day, but I'm still going to catch up! Since I wrote two poems the day before, I'm not behind on writing, and I've already responded to the last book I read.

Day 3: My book of the day was Light at the Seam by Joseph Bathanti, another of my former professors. It's largely a book rural mountain environment poems. Bathanti captures place and demographics so well in all his writing that I've read. I'm not sure how I'll respond. But I did write a poem called "When You're Exhausted." This poem came from what I did today, tired as I was, and some advice people gave me through a Facebook post about physical and existential exhaustion. In another connection, Jessie gave me the last line of the poem. 

Day 4: I read Molly Peacock's The Analyst, a sort of love letter to her former psychoanalyst. Could I write a poem to my therapist or psychiatrist? Maybe. To catch up, I also read The Death of a Migrant Worker, a chapbook from Rattle. I don't know if I'll be able to respond to all these books, but I'll try. I didn't write a poem today, so I'm behind on that, but at least I'm caught up on reading. 

Day 5: My book of the day was Daniel Halpern's Something Shining. I didn't love it, and I don't know if I have a response to it, but I marked some lines I liked. I didn't write anything today, so I'm more behind. I hope to catch up this weekend as Oliver will be in Charlotte. 

Day 6: I wrote a poem called "October" based on texts Josh and I exchanged this morning. I read half of This Clumsy Living by Bob Hicok but didn't finish it. It was getting late, and I'm afraid of messing myself up again if I don't get enough sleep. I have new ideas for poems, though.

Day 7: I wrote two poems after Bob Hicok: "Ruth's Reply" and "This Is the Complete Shape of the World, an Inventory, a Map," which takes its title from one of Hicok's lines. I like to write a prompt for a poem in my journal (sometimes a title, sometimes first or last lines) at night and respond to them the next day. I finished Bob Hicok's This Clumsy Living. Hicok taught at Queens; I was in his large workshop once. I'm now only behind by one poem and one book of poetry. I've completed thirteen of each!

Writing Conference Prompts: Desired Outcomes.

 Desired Outcomes as a Reader

• Read 100 books this year
• Fill time with reading
• Read 31 books of poetry in October
• Read visually 2+ hours daily
• Read poems every day
• Read a story every day
• Read art
• Listen to books at every opportunity
• Read within my passions and curiosities
• Read outside my tendencies
• Read with Josh
• Read with Bruce
• Read some of Josh's books
• Read anthologies, especially Best American
• Approach books with curiosity

What am I doing well?

• The desire is there.
• I read deeply.
• I reflect on what I read.
• I read to help myself write.

What could I do better?

• Focus
• Put in the time
• Read widely
• Read daily
• Listen to books more

How can I do better?

• Keep headphones charged
• Listen during chores and meals
• Read The Plague
• Read a chapter of Creative Recovery each week
• Read poetry collections all at once in a day or two
• Finish a book most days
• Time my reading
• Use chart
• Update GoodReads and StoryGraph

Writing Conference Prompt: When I Am at My Best.

When I am at my best, I am

Industrious

• hard working
• steady
• focused 
• diligent

Studious

• curious
• searching
• note taking
• absorbing
• applying

Kind

• patient
• gentle
• encouraging
• loving
• empathic and empathetic

Creative

• present
• brave
• determined
• open
• passionate
• prolific
• visionary
• eager
• in wonder

Relaxed

• not tense
• satisfied
• content
• proud
• not anxious
• not guilty
• peaceful
• playful
• funny

Voracious

• exploring
• reading widely
• reading daily
• reading deeply

Integrated

• consistent
• honest
• authentic
• stable
• available
• engaged

October Poetry Month: Week One.

This month, I challenged myself to read 31 books of poetry. I plan on repeating this challenge every April and October. This time, I have some library books and plenty of slim (and not-so-slim) volumes on my unread-poetry shelves. It's not exactly a poetry fast (which I've done before) as I'm reading and listening to other genres to a lesser degree. A side quest has been to write 31 poems as well, most of them in response to the poets, books, or poems I've read. I did pretty well my first week.

Day 1: I read The Woman Who Fell from the Sky by Joy Harjo. I wrote a poem called "Misread," in response to Harjo's poem "Northern Lights." It's mostly about how I misread crows in her poem as cows. Ha! It made for a funny image. I also pondered addiction and privelege in the poem. 

Day 2: I read Kim Addonizio's Lucifer at the Starlight. This was a book that Josh bought me as a gift this month. I plan to read a lot more of her work. Josh bought me another of her books, so I'll probably read that this month too! I wrote a poem called Myth for Addonizio, after her book. 

Day 3: In an unintentional connection (I'd already planned my first few books), I read Subterranean by Jill Bialosky, who happened to be Addonizio's editor! I've seen a few links like that this month. I wrote a poem called "My Heart," after Kim Addonizio's poem of the same title. I sent it to Josh and Bruce as I usually do, and I also sent it to my mom. I also wrote a poem called "Overdue," which wasn't a response to what I'd read...just a poem about all my overdue library books! 

Day 4: This was a busy day, so I went for a chapbook: Shopping after the Apocalypse by Jessie Carty. Jessie and I were in our MFA program together sixteen years ago, and we've stayed in touch. I wrote a poem called "The Rings" after Jill Bialosky's "The Circles, the Rings." Her poem has several stanzas that all begin with the line "I don't think it was snowing," so I wrote my poem with the same pattern. It ended up being about living in Boone, about my meeting Josh, and about our ill-advised romance, which pretty much worked out against all odds. Out of a kind of misplaced loyalty to my family, I think, I haven't written much about that. It's time to put aside all misplaced loyalty!

Day 5: My book of the day was Falling Awake by Alice Oswald, an overdue library book. It wasn't a favorite. I'd never read Oswald. This book was mostly nature poems. I usually don't care much for those apart from Mary Oliver's. I wrote a poem for Jessie, responding to the first poem in her Shopping after the Apocalypse with my "Shopping for the Journey," which was a tribute to some things I deem essential and to my friendship with Jessie. 

Day 6: Since I'd read a book by a fellow Queens University alumna, I decided to read The Ladder by Alan Michael Parker, my thesis advisor. This was another overdue library book (I made a purchase request for it), but I think I'll buy a copy eventually because I gave it five stars! I've read most of AMP's poetry books, and this, competing with Elephants and Butterflies, may be my favorite. I didn't write a poem on this day, but I had one planned.

Day 7: This day, I read Love and F*ck Poems by Koraly Dimitriadis. It popped up in Amazon recommendations when, I think, I was looking for Denise Levertov books. It, along with Dimitriadis's other book Just Give Me the Pills, was on sale for about $5, so I ordered both. The poems were graphic, passionate, disconsolate, and sometimes manic. I knew I'd have a hard time responding to that! I had already written down the title a poem the day before, so I wrote "To the Jewish Sir Ben Kingsley," a poem for Alan, responding to The Ladder. It's true; he looks just like Ben Kingsley, and I laughed out loud when I saw that line in his poem. 

So that's seven books of poetry and seven poems in my first week!

Writing Conference Prompts: Roles, Rights, and Responsibilities

One of the speakers told us to write down our primary roles and the rights and responsibilties of each role. 

Role: Writer

Rights: to take time, to express, to receive encouragement from my close readers

Responsibilities: to make time, to be brave and diligent, to write it, to read and fill the well

Role: Wife

Rights: support, touch, romance, passion, security and safety, adoration

Responsibilities: support, cleaning/chores, planning, fidelity, openness, words of affirmation, touch, company, gentleness and patience

Role: Teacher

Rights: a measure of authority, recognition of my knowledge, pay

Responsibilities: helping others fear writing less, building vocabularies, explaining grammar, holding students to high standards, grading work, answering E-mails

Role: Mother

Rights: Seeing Oliver’s smile, snuggling occasionally, seeing what love made, memories

Responsibilities: patience, attention, cheerfulness, managing interruptions, cooperation with others, appointments, admin work, support

Role: Reader

Rights: indulging my imagination, experiencing, feeling

Responsibilities: staying curious, putting in the time, studying, reading widely and daily and deeply

Writing Conference Prompts: Lies and Fears.

What am I pretending not to know? If I were willing to admit it, what would change my life?

• I’m really not sure what I’m pretending not to know. Sometimes, I pretend not to know that Josh and I are addicts (behaviors, not substances), but I think I’ve acknowledged it to the point that I can start healing and we can continue the recovery journey together. 
• I pretend not to know how much I need books and what a crummy reader I am. I have to take ownership of that.
• I pretend not to know how much bitterness I have toward a couple of people. I can't resolve it, so I try not to feel it. None of these things seem all that revelatory in a good way.
• I pretend not to know that I should write publically and publish. I tell myself I don’t want the notoriety, that I’m content with scribbling in a journal. But maybe I don’t want to be what Alexandra Johnson calls a “hidden writer.” 
• I pretend not to know that I’m capable of writing poems and stories and books. 
• I pretend not to know what I can do. 
• I pretend not to know the difference between rest and laziness…it’s a difficult distinction, but I think I know it. I should, anyway. Or do other people struggle with that too?
• I pretend not to know that I have some horrible thoughts that probably stem from some intense mental illness or depravity. Or maybe I pretend not to know that those thoughts, the intrusive ones, are a version of normal. I don’t really see how any of this liberates me. 
• I pretend not to know how bad I am at managing time. 
• I pretend not to know how tired I am. 

Something I no longer fear: 

I’m not really afraid that Josh doesn’t love me. I know he does, has, and will. It won’t be perfect. He will hurt me. He may betray me. But it’s real. The good things count. The memories count even if he wasn't fully present. I also no longer fear that I won't be able to forgive him. And I no longer fear that I will betray myself.

I'm no longer afraid that I will betray Josh in some way. I've betrayed his trust before, but that was a long time ago. The more recent times I've caused him to mistrust me feel distant too because of the resolutions I've made, that I feel capapble of fulfilling. I no longer fear that I won't be able to recover. I've recovered myself before. I've put measures in place to help me be who I want to be and who my family needs me to be. I'm also no longer pretending that my worst flaws aren't that big of a deal. 

I'm no longer afraid, I think, of my parents' disapproval. I've done about the worst things I'm capable of doing. It was bad for a time, but it's not bad now. I've made the confessions I need to make. I'm trying to live well. But their approval isn't tantamount as it used to be. It doesn't control my actions through submission or through rebellion. I'm not ashamed to ask them for help. They also seemed to have accepted me a lot more as I've gotten older.

This is a lie I’ve told before:

What lies have I told? That I haven’t eaten sticky candy: a Starburst or a Skittle that pulled out my crowns. I think the dentist is the only person I lie to. I'm not much of a liar, and I've become less secretive. Maybe I embellish the truth for the sake of storytelling sometimes. Maybe I am vague about the truth. But I can't think of a recent time I've done these things. Maybe I lie to myself. Do I lie to myself about what’s important to me? Or how much rest I need (more? less?)? Or how I need to manage my time? Maybe I’ve lied about my ambition, pretending to be content with a smaller life, with journals, with writing privately. That seems to be what's coming out of the prompts today.