jill and i both refer to the place we grew up as “up north.” her “up north” is ticonderoga, new york; mine is lincoln, maine. the similarities are many: paper mills, mountains, lakes. i was teasing her that her “up north” wasn’t *really* “up north,” considering mine is up-norther-er than hers. lincoln’s just above the 45th parallel; ti’s waaaaay south of it at the 43.8.
despite all the arguing (ha ha), we had a blast. she and the kids spend much of the summer at the family camp, and the boys and i have joined her a couple times (they’re in the blue canoe and yellow paddle boat off beyond the dock). when her son, the expert fisherman, wasn’t available, jill and i even got over our fear of taking fish off the line. we are poet women: hear us roar!
i took lots of pictures, and made lots of notes in my notebook. i also read a poetry book that you must read: back through interruption by kate northrop. it’s heart-breaking and beautiful. and i’m tempted to say it tore me open. ok, i’ll say it: it tore me open. there were a few poems in it that i’d read 3 or 4 times in a row, and there are lines and stanzas i’ll go back to for a long, long while.
i hope i’m able to put together a collection that’s just as powerful. sometime.
yes, i’ve started to think in those terms again. my writing pace is slower than it used to be at its peak, but it’s back to about one each week. i still have to get back to revising and submitting, but i’m feeling like a poet again.