A poetry collection I’ve been re-reading this month is Lynn Melnick’s Landscape With Sex and Violence. Though it wasn’t intentional, it seems fitting as so many of us struggle daily to comprehend (and contend with) the barrage of hate and harm coming from the White House.
One of the experiences I crave when reading poetry is reassurance (or maybe it’s recognition) that someone else understands, that at least one other person on the planet sees what I see. It’s not comfort, per se. (I don’t mind when poetry makes me squirm.) Maybe it’s relief? Relief that someone has been able to name it — the devil we know.
Take this from Melnick’s “She’s Going to Do Something Amazing:”
“She’s going to go where no one is getting high off her suffering
and then she’ll be approximating a whole person.”
And this from “Landscape With Dissociation:”
“I guess I’ll just stand here now
and read to you about any of the times I managed to love
when it sure is a roughhouse, isn’t it
living.”
We get kicked around, the feet delight in the pain they inflict, and the poets sing together into the circle about living and its beauties.
I’m so blessed to have found my way to this particular brand of love.
Speaking of love… I was reminded recently that I have failed, decade after decade, to love myself (maybe someday). I sat with that failure a couple weeks ago, when rummaging through dusty boxes of images for a collage project. Stuffed into the layers of glossy fashion magazines were several old printed photos.
Many of the pictures stunned me. Who are these girls/women? They are unrecognizable to me.
And out of the blue.
And — also out of the blue — I have so much compassion for them. I didn’t have any compassion then. Didn’t know they deserved it. Didn’t know what it could mean.
I understand now, and self-love is one of the things I’m trying to get out of these challenging perimenopausal years. Loving these prior selves — in part through bread crumbs left in my earlier poems — is part of it. I’m so grateful to have that record to go back to.
Earlier this week, I started my day with a free write (after my Morning Pages, as I often do). Then, for the first time in a long time, I decided to carve the first draft of a poem out of that free write. The draft was erratic and messy, but I noticed in it a hint of the power and energy my voice has been missing for months.
It was good to hear her. I don’t know how long she’ll be home this time, but I’ve been leaving food out and hoping to coax her back. As frustrated as I’ve been, it’s also kind of charming that after all this time, writing keeps secrets from me. Well, it’s charming and maddening, but despite my attempts to quash foolish impulses, I’m a hopeless romantic. I don’t refuse her when she hops into my lap after a long absence.
Again, I find relief in the words of other writers. They’re also struggling with the muse and her mysteries and (mostly) loving it. In the afterward of You Like It Darker, Stephen King* describes how one of the pieces in the short story collection came to him in response to something he saw on his morning walk. Then he says,
That’s how it works for me sometimes — a story will arrive fully formed, just waiting for the right trigger to declare itself. It’s a very cool thing. Why this process works, or how it works, is a complete mystery to me. …
Am I curious about the process? Since it’s played a big part in my life, of course I am. I’ve written about writers in my fiction, and I’ve written about the act of writing in nonfiction, but I still don’t understand it. I don’t even understand why people need stories, or why I — among many others — feel the need to write them. All I know is that the exhilaration of leaving ordinary day-to-day life behind and bonding with people who don’t exist seems to be a part of almost every life. Imagination is hungry and needs to be fed. …
I have been called prolific, which Constant Readers of my work consider a good thing and critics of it sometimes consider a bad one. I never meant to be; I never meant not to be. I have done what was given to me to do, and mostly it’s been a joy to me. The only drawback, call it the fly in the ointment (or the fatal flaw, if you want to be hifalutin), is that the execution has never — no, not one single time — been as splendid as the original concept.
Hunger. Disappointment. Exhilaration. Joy.
Bring it the f*ck on!
Last month, working on my first creative recap of 2025, it was interesting to see an accounting of the creative activities I’d done. It hasn’t — and still doesn’t — feel like I’m making any progress, but the lists tell a different story.
So what am I after? And what about compassion?
I need constant reminders/reassurance that success is more than polishing poems, sending things out, or getting published. I’m sowing seeds and trying to embrace it so having something to show for it — even if it’s just these lists for now — is helpful.
So! I’ll end here with my notes about February’s activities. (Just like last month, if this kind of thing doesn’t interest you, feel free to skip it.)
FEBRUARY 2025 WRITING
- Completed 24 free writes (almost daily and nearly 2X what I did last month!)
- Drafted a new poem
- Organized notes for a fiction project
- Typed drafts from Sarah Freligh‘s August 2024 Micro-A-Day Challenge
- Participated in biweekly workshop with fellow poets via Zoom
FEBRUARY 2025 ART-MAKING
- Completed “line of inquiry” sketchbook with approximately 40 collages and mixed media experiments (exploration for a series of paintings)
- Painted a scene loosely inspired by the collages
- Created a new mind map with ideas for the series
- Refurbished lettering on a sign for my in-laws
FEBRUARY 2025 BLOGGING
- Finished and published a resource with 40 letter poem examples
- Finished and published a resource about “Someday I’ll Love” poems written after a line from Frank O’Hara
- Worked on upcoming posts, including my 2025 list of writing prompts for NaPoWriMo
FEBRUARY 2025 INSPIRATION & ADMIN
(I could have placed these under their respective art or writing categories, but I’m trying to be honest about if I’m consuming inspiration more than I’m doing the work.)
- Daily Morning Pages
- Sally Hirst class on creative themes
- Application for a spring writing residency at Mass Moca
- Sandi Hester YouTube video on lights/whites and value
- Orla Stevens YouTube video on loose, expressive landscapes
- Third Thursday poetry reading (IRL in Albany, NY) featuring Jill Crammond
- Ruth Stone’s Vast Library of the Female Mind
- Meeting with art mentor Christine Evans
- Sandi Hester YouTube video on her still life painting process
- Artist Date with Jill (a day trip to see RENT in Glens Falls and have lunch)
FEBRUARY 2025 READING
- Poetry: 19 collections
- Fiction: You Like It Darker (Stories) by Stephen King and The Life Impossible (a novel) by Matt Haig
FEBRUARY 2025 PUBLICATIONS
- Zip
- Zero
- Zilch
- (Also, I haven’t been submitting 🤣)
*Fun fact: I grew up in the neck of the woods where Stephen King lives and my mom used to do some work for his secretary.
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