On Salt Water and Greed

Tuesday Morning, 2013 

Chris set a brown paper package down on our bed. It was addressed to me, from Taproot.

I thought back to working on a piece that would fit this issue, their Water issue. I have such an attraction to water and it is something I've felt as far back as I can remember.

I began this piece after an exhilarating swim in rough salty water off the coast of Mexico. It was a beautiful moment--the taste of salt on my lips, the force of the current, the setting sun, the crash of waves breaking near shore, and the clean scent of ocean air.

When I saw the package an instinctual and admittedly greedy focus took over. I tore open the brown paper, quickly admired the artwork on yet another great cover, found the table of contents, and let out a little squeal as I first glimpsed my poem on page 59. They allowed such a generous amount of simple white breathing space around my words. I was not involved in the layout, but if I had been, this would have been my exact choice. I couldn't be happier to again be a part of this publication. Thank you, Taproot.

Now to peruse the rest of this thoughtful quarterly. I'm especially interested in a Prince Edward Island piece I raced past, but have not forgotten.

When We Shook Walls and Scared Cats

Breakfast, May 23, 2013

Returning from a quiet breakfast today I put my key into the front door of our apartment building. Just as I turn the doorknob I hear a car radio behind me playing Jessie's Girl, loudly, and I think back to a summer in Junior High.

We'd moved into an apartment "in town" and my younger sister and I would blast this song, and a variety of others, when my father wasn't home. One day a little old lady, apparently our neighbor, knocked on our door and asked us to please turn down the music because we were shaking her walls and scaring her cat. We shut the door, turned down the music, and proceeded to laugh hysterically.

The car stayed parked out front for a while, Rick Springfield belting out his lyrics about Jessie, hoping to soothe his longing.

Thinking of you today, little sis.

Original Jessie's Girl video on YouTube

of note

The visions reading the word moonlit conjure.

Those People

Green Street, 2013

Do you notice those people? Do they stand out for you as they do for me? Those who quietly knock on the restaurant restroom door and pause before turning the doorknob. The drivers who slow when they see a pedestrian in the crosswalk. The people who let commuters off the bus before attempting to board. And those who are kind to flight attendants, cashiers, and janitorial staff--even when it is a one-time encounter and they have no more to gain than perhaps a relieved smile

They live intentionally. They make this world softer, more inhabitable. They allow us to let our stiff defenses rest for a moment, and this space reminds us just how good the rest feels, like sunlight on cold skin.

A Sentence from a Poem

Petals, 2013

This light, young as it never will be again.

A sentence from a poem, Going Home Day, from a volume of poetry I bought this morning, Leaving Yuba City by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni.

As the Mind Twirls

Dust, Wood, Books, Light, 2013

Yesterday during an appointment with a hair stylist I experienced the indulgence of having my hair washed by someone other than myself and contemplated the creation of a hair shampooing robot.

Books. They've contributed to my life in so many ways. How will electronic publishing change this contribution? I've tried reading from an iPad mini. It was okay, it didn't kill me, but there was something a little sad about it. The reading felt less intimate.

Often my workouts take place in an old theatre transformed into a gym. It's a unique space, but this isn't my point. Today while on the second floor looking down at people sweating on various pieces of gym equipment I thought of body shape. Imagine all of the physical labor involved in a pre-industrial society. Body shape for many must have been determined by profession. A plowman most likely had well-developed leg muscles due to his maneuvering on foot throughout the day while a seated coachman probably had weaker leg muscles. Today most of the work we do doesn't require muscle, we have more control over our shape.

The unusual May heat here this morning reminds me of Salina.

Kathleen Jamie has me wandering around the Bergen Natural History Museum's Hvalsalen, in my mind, contemplating enormous whale skeletons.

Cut peonies fade too quickly.