bargaining

I will cut off all my hair
and send it to you in a box
wrapped in gift paper
some holiday design or perhaps
an old map, tie it all up
with a bow or some twine if you'll send me
in return
your most recently worn undershirt.
Sweat in it good for me first.
For one more night
with your shoulder as my pillow
you may have
your choice
of my teeth.
Take them all.
For your voice,
soft,
saying anything, reading
magazine ads in my ear
while you stroke my hair
I would cut out my heart,
that raw animal, so noisy.
I haven't even used it
in days.

9/4makeup: day9pome4. Translitic!

DIE LIEBE DER STAR BY JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE

Es fällt ein Stern herunter

Aus seiner funkelnden Höh’!

Das ist der Stern der Liebe,

Den ich dort fallen seh’.

Es fallen vom Apfelbaume                                            

Der Blüten und Blätter viel

Es kommen die neckenden Lüfte

Und treiben damit ihr Spiel.

Es singt der Schwan im Weiher

Und rudert auf und ab,                                             

Und immer leiser singend

Taucht er ins Flutengrab.

Es ist so still und dunkel!

Verweht ist Blatt und Blüt’,

Der Stern ist knisternd zerstoben,                                 

Verklungen das Schwanenlied.

This was the *very first* attempt at transliterating.  I had to punch a rather lot of the words into Google Translate and ask her to pronounce them for me so I could try a listen.  Sometimes I just gave up and went with something closer to the spelling.  After this first transliteration, my physical brain was in actual pain.  It's crazy messy!

Die, Libby, the star

Is fault in stern her under

Odds signer funk phone golden her

That’s east there stern there libby

Then its door fallen see

It’s fallen from apple balm

there blue ten and ladder feel

It’s coming, the neck in then loose, duh

Untried bun damnit ears peel

It’s singed there swan in wire

under dirt awful dab

un dimmer laser sing and

daughter in flute in grab

assist so still and uncle

for what is blood and blue?

the stern is niece turned there stolen

fear clung and that’s swan in lead

Four editversions later, I have this, which I will continue to revise, but here it is for now, just in time to finish the 9/4 challenge.

Deliberate Star:

It is not your fault if stern,

odd signs hang, golden and funky, calling

you to go east.  Stars will stop

in the door to think before falling into the sea.

They fall under apple trees,

leaving behind letters written in blue ink,

you’ll feel them coming, nooses on their necks

that untie when they hear your curses.

Their electricity singes swans

as they crash deep into the earth,

dimming out like neon signs,

singing, their voices like flutes.

Sit still among the trees.

Your veins are as blue as their letters

and your knees may swell from kneeling

in fear while the swans softly bleed.

the 9/4 makeup: day8pome3

Look, this is silly and it's also fun.  It's meant to be like the Big Rock Candy Mountain, except it's for my friend Linda and her wonderful daughter and granddaughter (who are also my friends) who live on this mountain I love to visit.  But Linda's the matriarch now so it's mostly about her.

-------------------------------

One morning down in Arkansas

as the summer sun was rising

Down the road came a poet driving

and she said, “I’m going climbing

up a winding road that twists and turns

with joys that can’t be counted;

Let down your hair, we’ll see what’s there

when you go up Linda’s Mountain."

When you go up Linda’s Mountain

there is birdsong in the air

and she’ll welcome you into her house

and she’ll offer you a chair

And she’ll brew you up some coffee,

or a tea if you prefer

with a lemon slice

if you think it nice,

or a little bit of honey

if that might entice,

When you go up Linda’s Mountain.

When you go up Linda’s Mountain

she may take you for a stroll.

There will be some conversation

and some doggies on patrol.

You can count her lovely chickens

and you might just leave with eggs.

Walking through the trees

in the lovely breeze

and underneath your feet you’ll hear

the crunching leaves,

when you go up Linda’s mountain.



When you go up Linda’s Mountain

You can meet her lovely crew

like her daughter named Vanessa

and her grandchild, Stella, too.

There are smiles and laughs aplenty

and adventures, crafts and jokes.

You can join the club

with a handmade mug,

and I hope you did your stretches

cuz there’s lots of hugs

when you go up Linda Mountain.

When you go up Linda Mountain

you will see the land anew

with a sun that shines like Stella’s smile

and a sky that’s crazy blue.

You can solve the whole world’s problems

if you simply think and talk

Can’t wait to go

where the gardens grow,

can’t wait to see their faces

when we say hello

When I go up Linda Mountain

…

I’ll see you soon one afternoon

When I go up Linda Mountain.

The 9/4 makeup project: day2pome2, from a prompt in Mindy Nettifee's "Glitter in the Blood"

I had never heard the word before.

And there he was, biggest person in the whole house,
a red thunderstorm, blustering from room to room,
the broom beneath his nose bristling back
and forth, calling out, "Where are my
CUFFLINKS?"

cu-ka-cuff-uff-ufful-flink-links-ks what a beautiful
complex treat for my young mouth, cufflinks, I wanted
to say it over and over, this thing I'd never heard of,
and Peter Pan was always my favorite story and
Mr. Darling, the broom-sporting thunderstorm, was also
Captain Hook, you know, my fascination
with this magic started early, started young,

I would stay up staring out my bedroom window nights
thinking if I only believed hard enough, he'd be there,
Pan, floating outside my second story, tickling
the sycamore, reaching out his hand to take me to
this magical world of cufflinks and acorns and

thimbles, which were or were not kisses, and
the year I met the young man who wore cufflinks,
I accidentally fell in love, I couldn't tell you how
now, any more than Pan could tell the Darlings
how he flew, without thinking, maybe the young man
tricked me with pixie dust and when I finally couldn't
fly for him anymore, months later I found

in my panty drawer, tarnished now, the silver Italian pair
I'd found in the antique store where I'd repaired
chandeliers one summer and I thought about how
even magic can get tarnished over time.

((I also wrote a haiku at work today.  I asked the bartender to make me a lemon twist for an espresso order by saying, "May I request a lemon zest?" and she said, "Only if you make the next poem about it a haiku" so I came back after having written down for her:
espresso is nice,
but sometimes folks want a lem-
on zest.  so gimme. ))

RESUME PLAY

The challenge was to write one poem every day for the month of April.  Thirty poems in thirty days.

Before I paused, I did miss a couple days, and on the following days I would write two.

I wrote on a total of twenty-one days out of thirty.  I missed nine days.
I wrote a total of twenty-six poems out of thirty.  I missed four poems.

Does this mean I have nine days in which to write four poems?  Does it mean I have four days in which to write nine?

I'm going to write poetry for nine more days and hope that four decent pieces come out of the mix.  Cuz why not?

Today, 1 May, day one of nine, is from prompt #1 here:

I believe in oak,
spiral leaves with lobbed margins,
serrated leaves with smooth margins,
flowers called catkins that give birth to acorns,
bitter fruit in tiny cups.
I believe in holding on to dead leaves
until spring gives you new ones.
I believe in strength and resistance
and making liquids more precious
just by holding them a while.  I believe

in pine, in fire and resin, in needles
and cones, in growing fast
and dense; I believe in hickory,
in being native to the whole world
and being prized world-wide, in giving
foundations to stand upon and flavor
to your food.  I believe in pecan.

I believe ash can betray you.
I believe teak should never be broken.
I believe mahogany should be treasured
and respected, not just for its strength, not just
for the beauty of its song.  I believe cedar
is a word you can smell when you hear it,
I believe maple is a word you can taste
when you hear it, I believe sawdust
is sacred.  I believe the sound
of a bandsaw is a fine violin, a nailgun
is a snare drum, and sandpaper
sounds finer than the ocean at night.
I believe in carpentry.  I believe

it is possible to build a whole house
from nothing, to build a whole home
from a house, to build a whole family
from a home, I believe dovetailing makes
the strongest connections, and there
are also joints named knee joints,
lap joints, and my father had knees
and a lap and my father knew how
to build a house and the value of each
type of wood and my father was sacred
as sawdust and strong as hickory
or oak; I believe father is a word
you can feel when you hear it.

PAUSE

I'm taking the rest of April off from the 30/30 because I have two huge deadlines coming up, one of which is an application for a MSW, and I'm terrified.  I hope to pick back up with the missed days in May.

Today is the 24th.

Back on the 18th I wrote four poems.  I figured that didn't put me ahead, as I still wanted to write every day.

I got a little behind on the weekend.  Been working on an application for a master's degree.

So, I still want to write for the days I missed.  I'm two behind, plus today I haven't written yet either.  

I'll post two tonight, and we'll see what happens tomorrow, as I work a double then.

I’m not excited about tonight’s quality, but then, the April 30/30 has never been about quality, I don’t think, as much about writing every single day no matter what.  Or, missing a couple days and then writing two afterward ;)

She Dreamed of an Old Shoe:

Comfort, said her daughter.

Shedding layers, said her friend.

Your childhood, said her therapist.

You’re tired, said the quiet voice within.

It’s me, her tired husband.

The urge to run, said her lover.

From this prompt by Nicole Homer:

First, she lost her comb,

the one her mother left her.  “You must not have really

loved it,” said her husband.  How quickly the flames

consumed him.  Out of the ashes crawled a spider, carrying a song

her mother used to sing, and faster than light, she realized

she had to swallow the song.  When the comb reappeared,

she did not cry, said only, “I knew you’d come back.”

listen i may be a little drunk (20&21)

because i went to a super awesome groovy slam with a super awesome groovy after party and anyway i still managed to write two poems at the slam beforehand the first of which i used in the first round and totally managed to advance all the way to a win only using stuff from april which was extra super awesome groovy because it was the last one of this scene's slam until theydono when because they're gonna try to rework the running of it and they're gonna see how it turns out anyway the first one was this one:

statement of purpose:
the fact of the matter is simply this:
i have got to stop fighting my destiny.
i've been groomed for service since birth
my hostess mother continuously creating events
     dinners, parties, dinner parties,
     this serving dish with that utensil,
     the theme, the wine, the gifts
through to volunteering - the animal shelter,
     the pet therapy with people in rehab,
     the teaching Spanish to homeless kids,
     the activism the feminism the antiracism
     the working in a job whose title is literally
          SERVER
it's ridiculous it took me this long to commit
so okay sign me up, here i am, committing
     supplicating - accept me to your program
     this service is my purpose
     i'm proposing we partner - take me, teach me, mold me to the cause
but first you're demanding i state mu purpose.
so here it is:
     i am here to be a queer woman who through those lenses
          sees farther, sees more, sees
          my whiteness, my able body, my cis gender
          and privilege is a fucking real thing, y'all.
     i am here to intersect, i am here to connect,
     i am here to learn and listen and respect
     i am here to change, create, within and without
     i am doing this because the more i hear about the military's response to sexual assault
          the more i need to Go Fix That
     i am here to doubt the status quo, to dream about where we can go together, i am here to be
          together
my purpose is service my purpose
     is to do what my father taught me when young
          to return things better than they were lent to me
     and this world is not mine
          and someday, sooner than i'd like
          i'ma have to return it

the other one was a haiku and i am not ashamed of that now i am caught up until today when i need to scribble out another at some point also i am very impressed with all the typos i've managed to correct thus far i am a little sauced:

you have to choose your battles, she said
okay, said i
i choose them all.

day 19 last minute haiku

Forgive me, I just finished watching Silver Linings Playbook.

So, yeah, I'm crazy.
Diagnosed SMI. What?
I still deserve love.

Dear Russia and Germany:

When I look at the statistics of my blog, I see that many of my readers live in Russia and Germany.  Can I ask how you found this blog and why you read it?  I'm super interested in how I got readers outside of the U.S., let alone countries that don't primarily speak English.