Sunday Gratitude

It's a slow Sunday. My one adventure outside was to Half-Price books--where I found a bunch of postcards but none of the books I was looking for--and the grocery store. Oh, and another quick dash to the alley to stand in the falling snow. Around here, you have to enjoy it while it lasts, because most of the time it doesn't. Now I am throwing the catnip mouse for Gilbert to chase.

Today I am thankful for those few flakes of snow, and I'm thankful that it didn't stick (especially because my daughter was out with the car).

I'm thankful that I finished a poem, and I'm thankful I had the time to finish a poem.

I'm thankful that my husband is making a big pot of red sauce.

I'm thankful for my here family and my wider family--aunt and uncle and cousins.

I'm thankful for "Homage to Paul Cezanne," by Charles Wright.

I'm thankful for the chance to ask questions.

I'm thankful for this day.

Open the door. Open my heart.

A question about prose poems

From what I know, in a prose poem, the unit is the sentence, as opposed to the line.

But I read in an interview a poet saying following about the publication of a manuscript:

"...it was nothing but a series of disappointments and frustrations...a prose poem is lineated where the manuscript margins ended;"

And?

I thought that's how prose poems go. At the margins. Justified, even. Otherwise, isn't it a poem with page-long lines?

What do you think?

Sunday Gratitude

Today, all five us joined for Sunday dinner. I'm thankful for that. It was so good to see Jamie, and it was Daniel's last night in town before moving into his new place in Olympia. And Tom cooked (always a good thing).

I'm also thankful for my sister and lunch together at Cafe Presse.

I'm grateful for the class on Saturday (writing poems in a series) and for writing, or working on writing, new poems today.

It's been a good day.

Thank you!

Open the door. Open my heart.

Ever eat a pound of butter?

Tonight, we had pie night. And for this rare occasion, I made a leek pie (it was supposed to be leek tart, but I've misplaced my tart pan) and then a tarte tatin for the dessert.

And I forgot to take pictures.

All this after attending a wonderful poetry reading by Susan Rich, Kelli Russell Agodon, Oliver de la Paz, and Allen Braden. The reading was at the Frye Museum, and the focus waas on ekphrastic poems. I wanted to come home and write ekphrastic poems. Instead, I made pie.

But I was able to work on some map poems today, and so it's time for gratitude.

I'm thankful for writing.

I'm thankful for all the inspiring poetry that's out there to hear or to read.

I'm thankful for community.

I'm thankful for a night hanging out with two of my kids (the oldest already had plans) and feeding them and hearing their stories.

I'm thankful I can still make my daughter laugh (even if she's laughing at me, it's still laughter).

All in all, a good Sunday.

Open the door. Open my heart.

Writing poems in a series

It's coming soon…

...and spaces are still available.

I'm teaching a class on Writing Poems in a Series at Richard Hugo House, November 13, 1:00-5:00 PM.

(It's my favorite way to write—a good way to avoid the blank page for as long as possible.)

Here is the official description:

Writing Poems in a Series

How do you follow that great idea—that fabulous first poem—for an entire book? Do you ever get an intriguing idea and then wonder how you'll keep it going? In this class, we'll discuss different ways to explore a theme and its variations through images, narrative and voice. We’ll read examples of how other poets—including Louise Gluck, Carolyn Forche and Oliver de la Paz—extend themes and weave multiple themes, and we'll write through some exercises to help unearth those extensions, to explore and expand our basic idea while maintaining a connecting thread through each of the poems.

Truth: I'm lazy, so I love already having a direction when I sit down to write. And that's why I love creating poems in a series.

I hope to see you then and there.

Was it a dream? A question of form...

I could swear that I recently read about a poetic form that sailors used to compose poems to Saint Christopher. Or Saint Elmo. I don't remember which Saint.

I also don't remember which form, or where I read it.

Was it in Lyric Postmodernisms? Was it in Ecstatic Occasions, Expedient Forms? I looked (using Google books) in those and also in Handbook of Poetic Forms.

And now the cat is barfing.

Got to go...any ideas about a form used by sailors to write poems to a saint?

All help is appreciated.

Gratitude

I haven't checked in often, partly because of traveling and cat recovery, and partly because I've been blogging (almost) daily at The Sun Hunters.

On to the gratitude...

I'm thankful for this gorgeous Sunday, and the way some unexpected sun lights up the trees that are still holding onto their leaves.

I'm grateful the cat is back in the family and that I've made progress on cat-proofing the house (in the case of Gilbert, harder than you'd think).

I'm thankful I had all three kids here for dinner tonight. Schedules aligned. It was wonderful, punctuated by running to the door to hand out candy.

I love the colors this time of year. And I can remember a time (in the '80s) when I looked at the trees turning and thought, "I wish I could just enjoy them, but I have so much to do and I have to finish it first."

I'm thankful that I now take the time to enjoy things--at least, some things, like little dots and leaves changing into their new colors. If I think of all the other chores, I remind myself that they are not more important than this now. They belong to a new now. I'll get there, after I'm here.

Best wishes for the week.

Open the door. Open my heart.