And? I have been pursuing a brand new New Year's resolution, to write a poem every day of 2020. I've stuck to it so far, and honestly, it feels different than any other resolution I've made before, in that it's so much easier than I expected, and rather than become a to-do list item, it's been a source of joy and creativity built right into my bedtime routine. Many days, I've even gotten so excited about writing my poem that day that I find myself typing away on my Smartphone in the middle of the grocery store or swaying in the subway car as the train rattles along the tracks. It makes me feel alive. It illiminates magic in the midst of moments that seem ordinary. It makes me excited to get up in the morning.
Which brings me to my bit of news. My second book of poetry, Wild Unfolding, is coming out on March 4th for your poetry reading pleasure! It will be available on Amazon as a Kindle book or paperback copy. Reading it with a cup of peppermint tea and some gluten free spice cookies is optional, but highly recommended.
A huge debt of gratitude for your enthusiasm for my poetry these last several months. It's funny, I wrote poetry so often as a kid and then went half a lifetime without writing much at all. Poetry crept back into my creative practice in 2018, and it's now a full blown love of mine again. "Wait, so this is now a poetry blog?" you may ask. Yes and no. After being a blog for creative tips and throughts for the last seven (!) years, I'm starting to give myself permission to write or share whatever it is that comes up in the moment for me here. Why fence ourselves in when it comes to creating? The imagination wants what the imagination wants. Right now, it's a lot of poetry. Next year (or month?), it could be watercolors, so watch out!
I'll end with a poem from Wild Unfolding. I'll be sharing a poem every little while here on the blog leading up to the release of the book, and will let you know as soon as it's available for pre-order!
Secondhand Coats and Subway Cars
Ten stories below,
crammed into a subway car,
my secondhand coat keeping me warm,
proof that there is so much life left
in things that may have lost their luster,
my earbuds keeping me separate
from the sounds around me.
Clare de Lune cracks the crust
of my anger,
once held hostage in the deep below,
bobs to the surface,
taking my breath away.
hot tears turning to cool-
for whoever this coat protected in the past,
for where it might hang retired in the future,
bereft of a body to hold.
A private concert swells in my ears,
bits and pieces
simultaneously sinking and floating
in the sea that is me,
but is really everyone, everything, everywhere.
Brokenness and beauty do coexist,
a tender duality-
might be the reason that music exists,
notes both breaking and building your heart
all at once.
And as the keys sound in the spaces of the carved out underground holding me now,
I can sense a truth trailing me,
not quite solid.
As I turn to see it, it snakes its way
through a tunnel like a subway train,
smoky and shy and vanishing
in the dark of the tracks beyond.