Friday, March 20, 2015

NaPoWriMo - April is National Poetry Month!

since my return from a writing workshop with scott cairns in santa fe last fall, i have found myself newly invigorated with pursuing poetry. i recognize the importance of consistent work, of engaging regularly - perhaps even daily - with language. i need a literary community. i need more discipline.

which got me thinkin'.

i'm sure many of you have heard of NaNoWriMo (if you haven't, learn more about it here), and i wondered if there was anything similar for poetry. it turns out there is.

i would like to invite you to join me in an experiment - an informal National Poetry Writing Month - during the month of april. 

after all, it is national poetry month in both canada and the united states.

i am going to attempt to write a poem a day for the entire month, and would like to invite you to do the same. you can add your poems in the comment section -- perhaps even write them as responses to what i post.

i make no guarantees about the quality, nor will i commit to a specific type or length of poem. i simply commit to posting something every day before midnight.

will you join me?

please say yes.

Thursday, March 19, 2015

a poem for my wife

laugh! you're only forty now. still young.
it's time to get dressed up &
shimmy your fine self to the front
& let your presence be known.

measure yourself by your divine calling
& not by the frailty of others.
rail against those who would press
in on your joy, your creativity.
engage that enemy with passion.

vie for your freedom - relentlessly -
& for the freedom of others.
never stop moving your feet.

venture deeper into the great dance.
leap into my arms; let me embrace you
in every moment's movement, let me
embrace you in wonder & thankful yes for
this is you: my bright & beautiful star.

Saturday, February 14, 2015

a poem for my wife

leap! jump! run! shout!
in this moment you are free --
surprise yourself with the depth of this
abandon, embrace this particular

mystery. there is more to this
action of lunge, stretch, pivot,
reverse -- this is a dance of
intuition & passion, hope & joy.
escape into that place of refuge.

victory comes to those who dance
after dreams; & always they must.
not as they can, or when convenient.

violently hurl yourself full bodied against
lingering doubts, fear that
inserts itself into your steps.
ever vigilant, you must remain
true, steadfast, relentless.

Friday, January 16, 2015

naked & unashamed

last night we spoke
of redemption.
you almost convinced me
it was a matter of vision,
of paying attention.

i see you.

i see you.

what a frightening thought –
to be seen. known
for any length of time,
to be unable to hide
behind your not seeing.

let me return the honour
of noticing you noticing me.
let me shake hands with you.
let me belong to you.
let me be naked & unashamed,
full of glory & longing.

Thursday, January 15, 2015

a man full of regret

that evening i felt the weight
of a past not of my own making,
carried forward
out of darkness into darkness.
it was a night to determine boundaries –
what belonged to whom, & who
makes that decision.
i will never do that again.

i learned that much.

i gathered every graven image,
drawings & paintings, every golden idol –
every thing pulled out of storage
into the light, unveiled, released.
three bins full, & still you wanted more.
the bonfire at Hawrelak Park –
1000 books set afire –
it took hours for them to burn.
they smouldered in the dawn like bricks,
wilted pages and charred spines.

i regret that less.

those books could be replaced
(though most weren’t) still too many
books get burned, too many
books are published. so many
words to nail to the page, so many 
stories that need unravelling. their grip
too tight. they take up so much space.

the art, the poetry, the books – the proof
of the journey, the shadows
of my youth
                   rejected, all
forgotten. misremembered. half-

remembered. how do I recover that?

i should have been stronger.

i should have said no. i should have
tested the strength of my voice –
what was true. i should have
remembered my name,
how it calls out a promise.

the loss of all these things
won’t define me. regret tries
to fill the spaces – sketches the past,
and though sometimes accurate,
it is a thin reminder.

perhaps one day i will forgive you
perhaps i will even forget
this is not that day.