Carolee Bennett –> poet. artist. crankypants.
one reason today’s process and even the resulting first draft delight me is because i had a chance to be playful. it’s called (for now) “december sonnet #4: a saucy advent calendar for your man,” and it happened quite by accident.
let me begin by saying that if an acquaintance or co-worker or casual friend is going through divorce, by all means follow the advice offered by the author: keep your mouth shut about who’s to blame and don’t give any advice (emotional, legal or otherwise). however, if your sister or BFF or close friend or someone you really, really dig is going through divorce, that kind of luke-warm approach will probably be completely unhelpful (#1), make her feel further alienated (#2) and totally piss her off (#3).
tonight is opening night. i’ll be there with a picnic and a hot date (as long as i can drag him away from the pool).
the city meets my needs right now, but it may not always. as much as i’m having a love affair with life downtown at the moment, i’ve always been able to see the romance of a quiet spot in the country. some day, maybe that’ll be what i need.
it was terribly confusing all those years. it was training for not trusting words: i love you. and it was training in paying close attention to my gut. it took me a long time to recognize that it was right about my marriage. now, i don’t waste much time questioning it.
as a runner, i am particularly saddened by the choice of this setting for any kind of violence. as a resident of albany, ny, i wonder how much longer we can be safe (incidents in manhattan just to our south, boston a similar distance to our west). as a poet, i only wish words could be larger…
a wet and cold evening. the boys played lacrosse in the rain. drenched and muddy, they filled up my car with quite the distinct aroma of boy sweat. and i couldn’t have been happier.