Dear readers, happy early Valentine’s Day and welcome back to Poetry for Strangers.
I’ve taken a break for two months—two months in which much has happened:
The major thing that happened is that my beloved grandfather, subject of my biography Energy, died at the amazing age of 103. This has been a strange process, being grandfathered—sitting snugly beneath two older generations of McKettas—and then suddenly having one of those generations end. It feels like some layer of the sky has disappeared. I have been thinking about him, writing his obituary and eulogy, and spending time with family in Texas.
But many good things have happened too, and I would love to share with you some recent writing news:
First, I am in the thick of preparing a TEDxBoise talk, to be presented on April 20, with the title “Live Like a Poem.” This talk, which is currently one big mess of a draft, will offer five steps for writing a poem (1: set moonshot; 2: brainstorm; 3: notice; 4: distill; 5: share!) as a way to suggest a framework for how we might edit our lives in order to pay greater attention to the things we wish to remember.
Second, my husband and I have written a children’s book, available in late March, entitled We Live in Boise. We loved writing it and we polled many locals for ideas on what to include. The book explores life in Boise through the eyes of children as they grow, make friends, paddle rivers, encounter wild animals, and become part of the community. The illustrations by April VanDeGrift are terrific.
Third, a former student and I are co-editing an anthology of women’s resilience stories. We have spent the past two months receiving and responding to an incredible array of stories, and we should have news soon about where and when it will be published. I’ll send updates as we move along.
And finally, onto this week’s poem:
Two stories collide in my meeting with Jessica. Story one: when I was a teenager, I worked at a famous Texas barbeque restaurant called The County Line. I was a vegetarian. There were not a lot of us. When it was time for team lunch and I did not eat, the kind head server sneaked me buttery mushrooms in the ladies’ room. Now, two decades later, I still don’t eat meat, but I do like going to a steakhouse for the martinis and bread. Jessica is a vegetarian who works at my favorite steakhouse, and we had a fun illicit moment of bonding over this shared fact. Just before I met her (story two) I had gone for a cold neighborhood walk with my four-year-old son during which we had discovered a prickly pear cactus, shriveled over with pink pears. With his gloved hands my son picked a pear, and I spent about twenty minutes post-walk tweezering out the near-invisible prickles from his hands. He had hoped we could cook the thing and make jam. So, when I learned that prickly pear sorbet was on the dessert menu at the steakhouse—it was a marvel, so tart and so pink!—my baby guy and I went there for a date.
The Stranger: Jessica
The Word: Empower
The poem I wrote:
We thought, we
shall made dinner,
we three clowns,
and through this act
empower ourselves
and feel full.
He put water to boil
and dropped in pasta
with a shallow spoon,
I popped ends off
haricot verts, the sound
a thrill like bubble wrap,
and she melted chocolate
and spooned in blueberries,
sweet upon sweet upon sweet,
and we ate it all
with our fingers, even before sitting
at the table he had set
with napkins beneath our plates
so that we had to bow
to wipe our mouths.
The Challenge: Do you have a poem in you on this word? Write one here.
February 15, 2019 at 8:54 am
geomancy
i dreamt i was a hot dog in a toasty bun
ice cold relish ruined the hallucination
goshawks screamed in the air circling the canyon
the sheriff filled the grave of his companion
the brave new world collapsed down the statues fell
the despot tossed his epaulettes in the well
i drove my black triumph bike to Temple
the church organ rang out clear and simple
behind the red windmill down the muddy road
a blackbird’s song turned the duke into a toad
drunk raccoons snuck into the bartizan
they freed the wizard who rejoined his clan
what the archaeologists didn’t know
was the plinth held the bones of a pharaoh
love is the bravest empowerment
kindness is never effort misspent
February 15, 2019 at 9:59 am
If I’m There to Speak for You
Lost marbles
Loose screws
We clearly paid the dues,
never refused
to play the hands
or dance to the tunes
of this lucky life.
We imagined experience
to be our mentor
to empower us
when the band packed up,
lights dimmed,
both of us, fumbling,
wondering what hit us
the way fire hits a spider web.
Experience is silent,
has never been
around this bend.
When it’s time
and if I’m still here,
I’ll tell your stories,
paint your life
not melting in a fire,
but rising,
a bright orange kite
lifting higher
and still lifting.
February 18, 2019 at 9:39 pm
Empowerment
These days,
When all is lost,
Empowerment
Is the certainty that my inhale
Is not your exhale.
And if unrecycled breath is as good as it gets
Let it be so–
For at this high cost
I will breathe
And breathe again.
February 18, 2019 at 11:43 pm
Gimme!
Know that I’ve been waiting,
Waiting to be empowered,
Biding time impatiently,
Waiting for the hour.
I think it’s way past due.
Why do you hesitate?
Why is it I am here
Standing at the gate?
Power should be mine
Just ‘cause I’ve got none.
Won’t you give me yours
So I can have some fun?
Open up the gate
Let me have my sway
I want to be ascendant…
Beginning now, today.
You think I’m undeserving?
I’ve earned what I have got?
I’m sure that you can see
That it is not allot.
Don’t think it is a handout,
More a helping hand up.
You, who have so much,
Should be glad to fill my cup.
Enable me I beg you.
I should not have to work
For a proper portion.
Now, don’t be a jerk.
Please, don’t frustrate me
Show me that you care.
Remember what Mom always said–
Boys, you ought to share.
February 19, 2019 at 3:43 pm
Batteries
The power of a memory ebbs
And floods, as does the tide.
(The meadowlark’s battery is strong;
She sings out loud. The Chickadee’s
Needs to be empowered; her voice
Is hardly to be heard.) Tidal current
Peaks at the half. At this time,
On the ebb, your boat must be far
Away from every rock. (Both
Birds sing a sweet song.) I watch
The water boil away from the granite
That will hole my sinking ship
Time after time after time. (Some
Toy birds need less power
Than others to speak.) We
Cannot choose which memories
To charge and which to drain:
Their living force is not ours
To empower, to gainsay, or to stay.
March 3, 2019 at 9:18 am
A world overburdened with information
Embellished, fake – even false
To empower self with our own reality
Is the challenge