Word Raccoon, my writing persona, has news. The good kind.

My poem “So Much Depended” will be published in Moonstone Arts Center’s upcoming anthology Remembering Ezra Pound. We’re so excited!

I’ve been, like many others, transfixed by William Carlos Williams’ “The Red Wheelbarrow,” that Imagist gem of a poem that you can’t unsee. That wheelbarrow. Those chickens.

I found myself thinking not just about the poem, but about the relationships that shaped it, the complicated, formative bond between Williams, Ezra Pound, and Marianne Moore. How literary friendships shape a writer’s voice.

(I know writing friendships have shaped mine.)

So I wrote my poem with all of that in mind and more.
And then I saw the notice to submit to this anthology just before it closed. I figured it was a long shot, but WR lives for long shots, so we submitted it.

Word Raccoon and I are so happy it found such a good home. A little poem that depended on wheelbarrows, literary friendships, and comparing doctoring to being a mechanic, if you will. (I want so badly to make that parallel, but what would I say, mechanicing??) 

(I have written two poems about WCW, but we only submitted one.)

There’s a virtual launch reading next Sunday (Nov. 2 at 2 PM ET), and I may or may not be reading at it, waiting to hear, but I’ll be there either way, cheering and sipping something cozy from a ceramic mug.

Here’s the Zoom link if you’d like to join us:
https://us06web.zoom.us/meeting/register/okGox05rQ6eQlDzzh1GYtQ

Word Raccoon will be on her best behavior. Probably.
She will definitely be wearing earrings. You know the ones. (Unless she wears…well, you’ll see. Or not.) 

Now back to yesterday. (Were we there? Who cares!) 

We were asked to review a company’s pajamas. We said yes. They arrived yesterday, and we thought it would be lovely to throw on the pink and black comfies giving Doris Day.

I opened the package.

GREEN pajamas?

I would NEVER have ordered green pajamas. No freakin’ way. The bottoms were buffalo check black and green. The top, solid green. Like evergreen green. I don’t mind that for the holidays, but this was a random fall evening. 

Wait, though. They’re shorts, so winter colors? Would have to be a warm winter.

I should pack them up and send them back with a complaint, not saying Que Sera, Sera to this trickery, but I just don’t think I have it in me. I assume it was a mistake, but whatever. #FirstWorldProblems

Besides, the holidays are coming. So fine, I guess. 

Speaking of…I have twice ALMOST listened to Christmas music this week, but I made myself stop. No, not a note, not until AT LEAST November 1. 

The coffee I had for breakfast today (I know I said I don’t like coffee, but reasons) was apple flavored and full of promise, but it feels like the most uncaffeinated coffee ever made. 

A giant mug and a half in, and I’m still fighting sleep like a toddler. I think I’m catching the same cold Barry’s been nursing. Great…because that’s what we need right now.

Preventative Zicam taken (WR REFUSES to acknowledge that she does, indeed, have a congested nose), heater humming, we’re wrapped in blankets on the porch while listening to John Green talk about his current trip to the Philippines (I think?).

(Word Raccoon, hands on her hips, wants to know why people we know IRL don’t have video channels. Can I request that for the holidays, People I Love Reading and Riffing on Things, audio and/or video versions, Dear Reader?…Would it kill you to volunteer to read a classic for LibriVox?) 

Last night I sat out here too, breaking my own rule by watching stupid YouTube videos instead of writing. This porch is supposed to be my productive space, but honestly, I was in the active grieving stage again and couldn’t make myself do anything but surf and watch and wondering how poor Charlotte Bronte felt when she lost her siblings. (I am incredibly thankful not to have lost all of mine, but two is two too many!) 

And yes, HERBERT, I KNOW Bronte is supposed to have a diaeresis over it, but ask me if I care enough to do it right now?? Who’s going to go find that on my keyboard, HERBERT, you?? 

WR reminds me that we DID get our hair done yesterday after reading and writing several hours, so that was something.

So what that we can’t currently remember what we wrote? We do remember learning from the Ruefle book of essays that linguists do not know the origin of the word “fear”? Can that be right? We wrote about that, as well as other things that we do know.

We wrote in a journal for the first time in a while. Paper one. Big letters. My god, this medicine for my fingers better take effect soon. I think it’s supposed to take six to eight weeks. It’s been two. My handwriting looks like a kindergartener’s. (Insert laugh-cry or scream with frustration emoji, depending on the day.) 

WR still wants to show the hair off, but the only runway I’m walking today is the one between the porch swing and a nap.

And maybe, MAYBE we will submit some poetry after lunch. I wish I could persuade her to eat something besides carbs. Maybe a nice salad?

Anyway, I’ll have to keep you posted on whether or not I’ll be reading on Sunday. 

Now, can anyone tell me how to pronounce Passaic River, just in case? 

Eh, Word Raccoon says we’ll wing it.