winter solstice poem with potatoes and pandemic
Even the solstice is a trick, using its promise of light as a Trojan horse to sneak in winter. My own belly is full of potatoes. In quarantine, I’ve been perfecting home fries and counting blessings.
“birth is the first hard frost”
IN THE FIELD BETWEEN US by MOLLY MCCULLY BROWN & SUSANNAH NEVISON / The poems in this book grapple with all the versions of the self, as they are created, as they are destroyed. Embodying reality in any given moment is a moving target.
asked about forever, he does not say no
They say now bandanas and neck gaiters are not good enough. And an infectious disease expert tells CNN we may be wearing masks for a few more years. Asked about forever, he does not say no.
“we are meant / to lose count”
TO MAKE ROOM FOR THE SEA by ADAM CLAY / It is satisfying to see our human tribulations set among the stars and also be reminded of the something else out there. Somehow, the poems capture both ego and humility.
august, green & undeserved
I’m forever in awe of poetry’s ability to tap into what paces beneath the surface, anxious to be seen. Maybe it was the stuffed-down stress of the morning, but the weeping felt like a true connection. At the heart of the poem is the idea that we don’t or can’t always appreciate — or even recognize — love when it’s given to us.
“the hammock / of my collarbone”
LANDSCAPE WITH PLYWOOD SILHOUETTES by KERRIN MCCADDEN / It’s tempting to say the poems in this collection are “about” divorce, parenting, art, rivers, photos/cameras, ocean, ghosts, loneliness, etc., but it feels more to me to be a book about tenderness. Those other topics/items — grief, cartoons, chairs — are present alongside us as living beings. They’re active in our stories.
on “groping for meaning” with natalie goldberg during a global pandemic
For a poet, I think I’m late to the nesting and writing stages of coronavirus grief. But thanks to a cat, perimenopause and Natalie Goldberg, I’m here now.