A love poem for the conjunction of Jupiter and Saturn. Started out with the winter solstice. Ended up in the bedroom. Ooops!
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.
I’ve been trying to pay attention to my process this month. Clearly, at least so far, I am able to manage a daily writing practice. Why is it that I spend months and months telling myself otherwise?
Excerpts/teasers from my December poem-a-day!
I won’t pretend to understand the science, but Smithsonian Magazine says goldfish make alcohol to survive winter. Seems reasonable enough. I’m all about the spiked eggnog this time of year. But that’s not my only strategy for surviving winter.
the 30/30 challenge was tapping into an energy i’d enjoyed when i was writing most feverishly, a part of me that i thought had left the building.
something interesting: in writing today’s poem i felt a natural energy and momentum that i haven’t felt with my writing for at least 2 or 3 years. they’re all still first drafts, of course, but that feeling — it’s how a writer knows she’s alive.