Dean Young

I came across this line in my reading today. It’s from Dean Young’s The Art of Recklessness:

“But IT’S OKAY TO ENJOY WRITING! Poetry need not be a distillation of suffering!”

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LitFuse

This weekend I am off to LitFuse in Tieton, Washington. Dorianne Laux, who wrote the introduction to my new book, Sparrow, is among the featured poets. Here’s a poem, which I’ve cut and pasted from The Poetry Foundation.

Dust

BY DORIANNE LAUX

Someone spoke to me last night,
told me the truth. Just a few words,
but I recognized it.
I knew I should make myself get up,
write it down, but it was late,
and I was exhausted from working
all day in the garden, moving rocks.
Now, I remember only the flavor —
not like food, sweet or sharp.
More like a fine powder, like dust.
And I wasn’t elated or frightened,
but simply rapt, aware.
That’s how it is sometimes —
God comes to your window,
all bright light and black wings,
and you’re just too tired to open it.
*
Dorianne Laux, “Dust” from What We Carry. Copyright © 1994 by Dorianne Laux. Reprinted by permission of BOA Editions, Ltd.

Source: What We Carry (BOA Editions, Ltd., 1994)

Dorianne Laux

The Potting Shed

P1040152This past weekend my husband and I traveled to Leavenworth to spend a couple days with his brothers and three of their cousins (the “girl cousins,” as they called themselves). Spending all of my time around 20-somethings and 14-year-olds, as I seem to these days, it was a treat for me to be the youngest. (“Our new cousin!” I was called, although Bruce and I have been married 28 years.) We arrived late, as getting our daughter Annie moved to Western (WWU) was a priority, and we left early, as our youngest had doings we needed to attend to. But it was splendid.

I promised to post some pictures of my writing cabin, inside and out. I have spent 5 hours out here this morning. Now it’s time for a shower and a trip to Bellingham (Annie forgot to take a raincoat). Tonight, I drive to Chehalis to spend some time with Mom. Having written this morning, I know I’m anchored, like a plant, sinking roots into soil. I’ll be back Wednesday morning.

In the meantime, here’s a poem from Rumi. Whatever you’re doing this morning, be inspired!

This being human is a guesthouse,
every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture.
Still, treat each guest honorably,
he may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thoughts, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

-Merlana Jelal-uddin Rumi

P1040153fall winter 2012 013P1050034

Clown Shoes

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“Writing with something to prove – your extensive vocabulary, your arcane bits of knowledge, your cleverness – will trip you up like clown shoes.” -Cate Kennedy

Perhaps I should just close my blog and direct everyone to Aerogramme Writers’ Studio?