NaPoWriMo fall down go boom

Congratulations to all those who are closing in on that NaPoWriMo finish line! For myself, I've had to admit defeat -- just too much else going on. But I did end up with 21 drafty poems, definitely more than I usually come up with in a month; and it's not out of the question that I might come up with one or two more before May 1st. If I weren't frantically preparing to go out of town, I'd probably still try to make it to thirty over the weekend. Oh well.

I'll be gone for a week or so helping my mom recuperate from hip-replacement surgery, which she is having on Tuesday. I won't be entirely offline, but I probably won't be around as much as usual.

Here's an older poem for you:


Apart

The dying-battery beep reminds me
that we can't talk like this forever.

It's the things we can't help--
the lock that freezes three times every winter,

clocks that spring
forward, dinner burnt, pages

drifting to the floor--
that keep us apart.

I'm always driving west at sunset:
gold slipping nearer the horizon,

the flare of blindness on my windshield,
everywhere I turn, so much unexpected light.

--A.H.
published in Bloom: Celebrating Life in Bloomington, April/May 2007

Sherman Alexie, and being That Person

First off, if anyone who was at tonight's Sherman Alexie reading happens to read this, I apologize. Yes, I was That Person at the reading: the one who has a cold, but comes to the reading anyway with a pocket full of cough drops, and makes it through most of the reading but eventually develops a nasty tickle in her throat and starts coughing, and sits there coughing in fits and starts, trying to decide whether it's more disruptive to get up and run out of the room (which would have involved walking in front of half the audience) or to sit there continuing to try and stifle the coughs. I was That Person, someone I have bitched about after many a reading, and I apologize. Sigh.

Cough, cough, cough.

(At least I had my cellphone off, heh.)

The reading, though, was fabulous. He started off by telling us that this would be his first poetry-only reading in several years, then he spent a good ten-fifteen minutes storytelling -- talking about a turbulent flight, retrieving an elderly woman's hat on the street (yes, both of these stories were as funny as you'd expect of him), small moments of grace -- which led into some of his thoughts on the Virginia Tech massacre. He read/spoke for, oh, 40 minutes or so, then took some questions. He can do this ridiculously fast 360 from pee-your-pants-funny standup comic to some really searing, powerful poetry; the reading was definitely a roller coaster ride. During the Q&A he pointed out that all the poems he'd read used rhyme and meter; he said he got fed up with writing in free verse when he realized his poems were just becoming a series of tics, like whenever he got stuck he'd just put in a salmon, like poetic Tourette's or something -- and that working in rhyme and meter has enabled him to work with material he hadn't tackled before. He said he is reading a lot of Richard Wilbur lately.

There was a funny moment during the Q&A when he was talking about MFA programs, and how he kind of envied the MFA students (the MFA program was the primary sponsor of this reading, so there were lots of those folks in the audience); he said that as an undergrad it didn't even occur to him to do an MFA, and anyway his first two books had already been accepted by his senior year -- this caused an audible intake of breath from a number of aforementioned MFA students, which cracked him up and he imitated what must be going through their minds -- "fucker!" -- then mentioned that before he graduated he'd also learned he had an NEA fellowship, so of course there was that $20,000 waiting for him; at that point he just... stood... there, looking at the audience like "yeah, you got a problem with that?" without cracking a grin, as the MFA students just moaned. Then of course he cracked up again. Yeah, he's got a sizable ego, but he also pokes fun at himself a lot. For all I know he could be a real jerk in everyday life, but behind the podium he's one of the more likable readers I've ever heard -- engaging, polished but not too polished, pee-your-pants funny a lot of the time but also deadly serious sometimes, and he seemed to enjoy being up there as much as the audience enjoyed listening.

So, a thoroughly entertaining reading, as I knew it would be. I've been reading him for years and love his work, so I'm glad I finally got to hear him read in person, and get a book signed and stuff.

* * * * *

Missed my second NaPoWriMo poem yesterday, dammit. In my defense, I was coping with a yucky cold and spent several hours completing a big old application for a thing, which included a personal statement -- so at least I was writing something, eh? As penance, I'll post a draft from a few day ago (it will disappear in a day or so):


[and, it's gone.]

Look what I found

My first NaPoWriMo "miss": I didn't write anything yesterday. In my defense, I was tired and coming down with a cold. Today I will write two drafts to make up for it.

Here's the first:

(A found poem)

Source text



[Someone came along and sprayed this blog with Draft-B-Gone!]

Snippetology

A very happy Easter to those who celebrate.

For the rest of us ... happy "day before half-price Peeps & chocolate bunnies" day! :D

* * * * *

Day 5:

Later, naked and rosy,
sheltered from the frost, she blooms.
_____

Day 6:

He is cello when he sleeps,
a bow with insufficient rosin.
_____

Day 7:

I live here
because I believe in the changes . . .
_____

Day 8 (a two-fer!):

It's these small deaths
that chip away at faith.
Let me be
like all those robins . . .

---

It's the thinnest skin,
this dam
that holds the grieving in.

* * * * *

Did anyone else see the recent Nova episode about cuttlefish? Whoa. Amazing, amazing critters. I had no idea!

More snippets

Day 3:

Brain muzzy as tent caterpillars
in the rain . . .

Day 4:

Midnight, sometimes, I've bees in my blood. They shiver me,
buzz and honey me till I give up on sleep.
I'd choose clover if I could . . .

* * * * *
Yesterday: 79 degrees, with a ferocious thunderstorm in the afternoon.
Today: 31 degrees, blustery, with the tiniest of snow flurries.
Crazy.

NaPoSnippetMo

Day One:

She was born landlocked,
knows the comfort of maps.

__________

Day Two:

Little factory,
little ghost machine,
your sweet beating. Continue,
please.