that’s the feeling we’re after, right? what we’re all after. not like we *can* fly. but like we are flying.
few poetic devices thrill me as much as powerful line breaks. i try to use them in my own poems to give the reader something other than what’s expected or to give dual meaning, and when i find them in other poets’ poems, it always delights me.
seeing earth from 33,000 feet still feels like magic to me. i have never bothered to learn the physics of flight, so that’s certainly part of it. but it is more than that: the view. arrival in portland this time didn’t put on a good mt. hood show like it often does, but there were beautiful landscapes earlier in the flight. i hope i never stop being that girl who needs a window seat!
the pizza was strange and wonderful and delicious. though i’ll make a few tweaks on it the next time around, what doesn’t need anything different at all is this evening.
jill and i traveled an hour or so to lenox, massachusetts, to see marie read her wonderful poetry. she had the high noon spot today as part of berkshire wordfest, hosted by the mount, edith wharton’s house. it’s an annual festival, and though we were there only briefly, it’s clear they do a great job. and what a contrast in settings from yesterday: 80,000 people downtown, on my street, for lark fest. and today, this proper, quiet estate in the midst of the wilderness.
along side the struggles, there have been many beautiful moments, as well, of course. i have greeted them quietly. i have accepted them and made note of them. i have taken some of them to bed. i have written some poems about them. i have photographed them from many angles. but i haven’t celebrated. only recently, even, have i started to feel more comfortable with the idea of celebrating.
music from across the alley. howard jones from the 80s: no one ever is to blame. at first i think, blech. and wonder why someone would advertise that kind of musical bad taste so loudly. but then, of course, i find myself singing along. you want her. and she wants you.