Friends, thank you so much for reading my poems on the Tupelo blog, for liking and sharing on Facebook, and for donating to my participation in this project. I am overwhelmed and humbled by your support. It is astounding how many of you are visiting this blog and taking time to share my work.
Yesterday, after a long morning of travel (1:30am EST to 10:00am CMT), I arrived at Rivendell Writer's Colony, a gorgeous writer/artist retreat on the western edge of the Cumberland Plateau in Tennessee. After writing yesterday's poem, I wrote to my elected officials regarding banning assault weapons, did a lot of Internet reading, and started reading Jamaal May's The Big Book of Exit Strategies. Then I turned in around 9:30pm to sleep, and I turned off my alarm when it woke me at 5am. I let myself drift in and out that twilight sleep, despite my nagging brain's begging to be productive ("You have fourteen days, Emari, get to it!"). I permitted myself this half-restful, half-chastising dozing until a few lines (that would jumpstart today's poem) arrived around 7am.
Already the quiet of this place, the open wild is a type of healing, and I wish that there was a way for everyone to reconnect with untouched nature in this way.
Today's poem reaches out to an earlier, earnest version of myself (and many others). It's another poem that wishes to heal and offer healing. It's title was donated by the wonderful writer, Anndee Hochman. Please read her moving essay on Orlando and unveilings.
Here is an excerpt of "Leaves of Paper, Shards of Bone" (read the full poem on Tupelo Press' 30/30 blog):
"...If I could dial back
to a time when I’d run for hours,
when it was enough to spin
in late afternoon’s tawny light,
to take another’s hand and tell
a secret in a loud voice. I was
almost free then, could stand over
a mound of dirt proud of a hole.
There was some small chance
I might fly if I leaned into the air
Yesterday, after a long morning of travel (1:30am EST to 10:00am CMT), I arrived at Rivendell Writer's Colony, a gorgeous writer/artist retreat on the western edge of the Cumberland Plateau in Tennessee. After writing yesterday's poem, I wrote to my elected officials regarding banning assault weapons, did a lot of Internet reading, and started reading Jamaal May's The Big Book of Exit Strategies. Then I turned in around 9:30pm to sleep, and I turned off my alarm when it woke me at 5am. I let myself drift in and out that twilight sleep, despite my nagging brain's begging to be productive ("You have fourteen days, Emari, get to it!"). I permitted myself this half-restful, half-chastising dozing until a few lines (that would jumpstart today's poem) arrived around 7am.
Already the quiet of this place, the open wild is a type of healing, and I wish that there was a way for everyone to reconnect with untouched nature in this way.
Today's poem reaches out to an earlier, earnest version of myself (and many others). It's another poem that wishes to heal and offer healing. It's title was donated by the wonderful writer, Anndee Hochman. Please read her moving essay on Orlando and unveilings.
Here is an excerpt of "Leaves of Paper, Shards of Bone" (read the full poem on Tupelo Press' 30/30 blog):
"...If I could dial back
to a time when I’d run for hours,
when it was enough to spin
in late afternoon’s tawny light,
to take another’s hand and tell
a secret in a loud voice. I was
almost free then, could stand over
a mound of dirt proud of a hole.
There was some small chance
I might fly if I leaned into the air
around me..."
Tomorrow marks the midpoint of this amazing journey. I have many poetry incentives to fulfill, including ten titles. That means I have FIVE remaining titles available. If you would like to claim one of these, please see my first posting for incentive amounts and make your way to the Tupelo Press donation page. Be sure to select my name from the scroll down tab titled "Is this donation in honor of a 30/30 poet?"
Of course, once I am out of titles, you can still select five words for a poem, give me a potential theme/topic, offer a formal challenge, or receive a chapbook at the end of this project. And if you're enjoyed reading poetry this month, you might consider a subscription to Tupelo. You'll receive 9 books for $99, which is a steal! You can also *gift* this subscription to someone else (including me!)...I have friends and students who would be delighted to be the recipient.
Yours in poetry,
Emari
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