Today I'm pleased to announce that my "This Poem is Like a Bruise," was published in Rusty Barnes and Heather Sullivan's Live Nude Poems. This duo has always supported my writing, Rusty for almost twenty years now. It is an honor and a pleasure to have these talented people as friends.
This poem began only as a tittle which jumped into my head when I was doing who knows what. Honest---I don't even remember. . What I know is that this poem is an attempt to write about the feelings of bruised psyche, ego, confidence, or self-worth OR it is a hopeful view that our political climate man end soon. (?) My real life take away from all of it: Feelings come, and every time they go away, just like a bruise. Fact is, I don't remember if it was intended to be about bruised internal feelings, our political climate, or recovery. It works for all three---there is hope that all three can end positively.
The poem and meaning behind it starts in a visual darkness. I've never seen anything as dark as a riled up Lake Superior in my entire life. Superiior, a massive dark lake when there's a storm and the wind is strong--it's waves and whitecaps thrashing, is perhaps the most evil image one can experience in nature. It poem though, ends on hope; a hope you can pin, leave at the top, as you know the original feelings will dissolve, like a storm, like a bruise, and like a coin flip, going either way, it's only a maker of time before "heads," or "tails," will come up.
Here's something else. The other day I was describing some sad situation. My friend suggested, there's a poem in there, but at the time I felt there was some flash fiction coming out of it. "Well," she asked, "What's the difference?"
Great question. For me if the feeling is more intimate it will probably start as a poem, but if it's more narrative in feel, then it'll more often than not become a story. I'd never thought of my process in that way, but, for me, that seems to be the way it works.
This poem began only as a tittle which jumped into my head when I was doing who knows what. Honest---I don't even remember. . What I know is that this poem is an attempt to write about the feelings of bruised psyche, ego, confidence, or self-worth OR it is a hopeful view that our political climate man end soon. (?) My real life take away from all of it: Feelings come, and every time they go away, just like a bruise. Fact is, I don't remember if it was intended to be about bruised internal feelings, our political climate, or recovery. It works for all three---there is hope that all three can end positively.
The poem and meaning behind it starts in a visual darkness. I've never seen anything as dark as a riled up Lake Superior in my entire life. Superiior, a massive dark lake when there's a storm and the wind is strong--it's waves and whitecaps thrashing, is perhaps the most evil image one can experience in nature. It poem though, ends on hope; a hope you can pin, leave at the top, as you know the original feelings will dissolve, like a storm, like a bruise, and like a coin flip, going either way, it's only a maker of time before "heads," or "tails," will come up.
Here's something else. The other day I was describing some sad situation. My friend suggested, there's a poem in there, but at the time I felt there was some flash fiction coming out of it. "Well," she asked, "What's the difference?"
Great question. For me if the feeling is more intimate it will probably start as a poem, but if it's more narrative in feel, then it'll more often than not become a story. I'd never thought of my process in that way, but, for me, that seems to be the way it works.
No comments:
Post a Comment