After the Armadillo

I'm on this big poetry kick right now. It's partly because I got a poem in the mail from my dear writing partner in Portland. It's partly because I can't find time to read or write much of anything else. I keep picking up William Carlos Williams and unexpectedly found myself watching "Dead Poet's Society" a few days ago. (Now I have my first book of Whitman.) Last night I couldn't resist buying this book at a used bookstore: Animal Tails: Poetry and Art by Children

Here's my current favorite:




After the Armadillo

After the armadillo
finished giving his speech
on sub-nuclear physics,
the cow realized it was his turn.




By Ryan Mackle, Age 12

The blog #6Fridge Poem #9: Where I've been

Reasons I haven't blogged recently:

Joined a gym
busy with teaching
busy with Purim
spending time with people
doing "real" writing, stuff I want to develop and publish
doing "real" writing, stuff that's too personal
spending time with people in person
spending time with my cat in person
have to do more research before I'm willing to write anything about egg activism

Hence, tonight's Fridge Poem (no, that's not it up above) is quite appropriate. Again, the words were chosen at random. I deleted, "furniture" and "an"

I will title it the same thing as my general blog entry:



Where I've Been

I throb like a fever.
Better when people companions.

This is a Test: Terror Alert

My dear blogging friends have been helping me lately to understand how a blog actually works, through linking to stuff etc. This blog entry is a test of a trick I found through my friend's site: Netivat Sofrut

This is the Current Terror Alert Level

Fridge Poem #8: Territorial Needs

Territorial Needs

Territorial needs can fight long.
Women could put red blush
but kiss grass and are wise.








I think this is one of my worst fridge poems, but I wanted to publish it anyway. (How does that fit in with blogger ethics?) The only words I deleted from what I pulled out of the bag were: "but" "ed" "and" "and" "kitty"

(Yes, that's 2 and's.)

If you can find any meaning in this, let me know. I have a vague sense of what it's about, but I'd like to hear from you.

Book Review: Love That Dog

Love this book.

I read it
today
between the time
of waiting
for a bus
and riding
the bus to about
50 blocks away.

A novel.

But poetry.

I want to write one
just like it.

The Blog #5: Hiding

I tried to hide behind the written word this week. (In fact, I'm compelled to write this now because I had 2 people write comments to my blog. Both made me feel self-conscious, because suddenly I was actually being held accountable for what I was writing here. It feels great to sit here and type and imagine everyone loves what I'm saying... but as soon as someone responds (not even critically... just responding and showing they've read what I wrote), I found out how unnerving it can be to have an audience.

Yet, I'm still doing it because I don't think I'm alone in this feeling, and it's a fascinating feeling. And if you're reading this, and don't like reading it, then you can just stop. That's your choice. In the meantime, I'm building up my courage by continuing.

That said... I sent a letter somewhere on Monday and got a response by phone Tuesday. (Rare turnaround!) When I wrote the letter, I felt brave and important. When I got the phone message, I became nervous that I would have to actually talk to someone. I guess some of us just feel safer behind a keyboard.

In another entry I'll tell more about what this mysterious letter was for... It's going to become a new theme of its own because hopefully it will become a bit of a saga. But here's a teaser. The new theme will be "Egg activism" because I have a concern. I have very strong feelings about using free-range eggs. (I think people SHOULD use them.) But so many of them have blood spots that people who keep Kosher (like me) can't use half the carton and lose a lot of money. So this letter I wrote was to a free-range egg farm. I did get the courage to call the guy back the next morning, and I learned some surprising stuff. But I'll leave that for another time...

Stay tuned.

Fridge Poem #7: When It Hits

Fastest Fridge Poem yet. I did this in about 2 minutes. No insertions or deletions except that I added on the title. Interpretation is below.

When It Hits

Kitten may best
crawl home
feed ghost.
Steam never
above cloud.






(I'll start my interpretation down here so it doesn't cloud your judgment. I have been thinking a lot about what to do when unwanted moods come -- for different people it's different things -- mild depression, self-doubt, anger, self-pity or what-have-you. This poem is advice for those times when you are as weak as a kitten against that part of yourself. Go home and feed ghost. Live with it. "Steam never above cloud" means it won't get out of control. There are limits to these things.)