Dear Reader,
Word Raccoon has recorded her poem “Renewal” and would like to share it with you. It’s one that comes from a deep place; I shared a link to it when it was first published by aesterion (many thanks to them), but I wanted to offer it in my voice.
Yesterday, after a night of insomnia, WR and I wisely decided to write from our own porch. We wrote a suite of poems, simply numbering them 1-6 so we could keep writing uninterruptedly, though they are currently titled “Small Acts of Wondering” should we choose to keep them together. (We will, but whether they remain essentially one solid scrolling poem or whether we divide them like strands of Twizzlers remains to be seen.)
It’s worth thinking about possible connections between poems when they begin paddling onto the page as a group.
The poems were about:
The Beach Boys (“Heroes and Villains”)
What fuels a poem
A question around whether, if the body’s cells do periodically renew themselves, why don’t my memories?
A cracked apothecary jar as a window into concrete writing
Chocolate mousse
and, finally, Babe Suggs.
I’m still mulling over what these things have to do with one another. I have some theories.
Despite the maddening way the weekend has filled itself without our permission (we are so happy to have a full life and people we care about, but writing time…), we are feeling content. I have asked WR to first of all, stop ordering wallpaper, and maybe more importantly, stop talking about it on the page so much.
She was offended, but despite batting my can of Dr. Pepper & Cream Soda Zero Sugar (she’s also angry about my new summer drink crush) off my writing table, she has agreed to try.
In other news, Thursday, I was writing when I received a text: The Pentagon has been evacuated. Which would’ve been just another unfortunate news item except my eldest, Mia, works there now leading a team that supports the EDU. Thankfully, it was a false alarm, but I’ve just realized part of my heart is now potentially tied to the news cycle.
And now our town’s Tox-Away Day calls. It only happens once a year and WR is ready to unburden the house of old paint and mystery bottles of chemicals.
Banjos and bliss,
Drema
dremadrudge.com 