Was the blog just a fad that I happened to hit? If only I had a twitter word limit or some kind of “get fit; go blog” challenge. When writing gets in the way of writing, that’s a good thing I suppose.
The update is that this week I’m in the zone–working with the most fabulous, complicated, extraordinary group of students, creating a community of deep learning through poetry. I ask myself, how did I get so lucky to be able to write, read, and teach poetry? How did I find the most generous and talented community of poets to call upon who graciously come to Athens every night to perform their poetry for a local audience.
This week feels so vital and special and I ask myself: self, how can you live more fully in this poetry spirit as often as possible? What is required to be present to art, to students, to personal growth, to community?
We write poems daily and I treat myself like a student in the course, giving myself the assignments I have written for them. We come to class to delight one another with what poetry teaches us about what it means to be human, to say what hasn’t been said before.
I’m sure this poem will go through many more revisions, but I am so happy to play with language and see what it can teach me about an open heart. In the spirit of sharing here and reigniting the blog, here’s a new draft (I’m having trouble maintaining the formatting, bear with me–using * to figure out how to create stanza breaks)!
Don’t End A Sentence With A Preposition If You Don’t Need To
“Well, do you want anyone to come with?”
You, I mutter under breath
to my mother,
just like my fancy college roommate
who schooled me with
grammar and publishing houses
that bore her family name.
But I knew Mom meant did I want her
to come with me–those pronouns
and their needy relationships while Mom taught
the importance of indirectness
like, “Whaddya wanna eat?” meant “I want Chinese”
or “Just lemme know in the morning” meant “I don’t
really care what time, I won’t be there.”
When I told her no, I didn’t need her to come with me,
she added, “Well, tell me where you’ll be at.”
Be, I muttered. I’ll tell you where I’ll be, which meant
Don’t drive so fast.
Don’t ask for more pain meds.
Don’t take Grandma’s checks.
Don’t say you’re taking food to Jenny
when it’s for you, don’t
talk that way, don’t make mistakes
with grammar, don’t leave “me” out, don’t
come with me
which meant “do” but she didn’t get that, not really.