I'm lucky to live

I’m lucky to live
       where the wind blows.
                      Where interbeing
                 
                                         is a sweet
                  
                                                  or sharp
                   
                                                            or ticklish
                       
                                                                            truth in my nose. 

Photo by Braydon Anderson on Unsplash

The Prompt

Smell has a suddenness to it. You don’t see it coming for you, small on the horizon but growing upon approach. It just happens—one moment, you give zero thought to your olfaction, and the next, the whole world is a honeysuckle blossom (if you’re lucky) or a dirty diaper (less lucky).

For today’s prompt, give extra attention to your sniffer! (And I’m so sorry if you’re too stuffed up to smell anything, but maybe that is a poem in itself?)

In the space that you’re in right now, if you close your eyes or soften your gaze and breathe in through your nose, what does it smell like? How about if you walk into your kitchen? Or snuggle up with your favorite animal? Or pull off that sweaty shirt and don a new one? Or abandon self-consciousness and spend some time strolling the neighborhood, sniffing all the flowers? If you’re lucky enough to have a wind blowing through, how about pretending you’re a dog for a moment or two, turning your head this way and that to smell whatever is carried on the breeze? These questions aren’t just about identifying what you smell—naming the sources of various fragrances. It’s also about simply settling into the experience of smell. What is it actually like to smell something?

Speaking for myself, sight tends to be the sense I grab for first in my poems. My poems talk a lot about how things look. Most of us are very visual creatures, so it makes sense if you do this, too (no pun intended, but yay for accidental punniness). I wonder if there’s a smell-inspired poem waiting for you sniff it into consciousness? Take your time. Notice what your olfactory oracle has to say. Allow your experiences of smell to lead you down unexpected paths. I look forward to reading whatever poems emerge from this!

P.S. I’ve only heard back from a few of you about the Poetry in Nature zoom call on May 11, and so I’m considering putting that on pause for now and coming back to it down the line when there’s more availability/interest. If you’re hoping to attend and haven’t told me so, now would be a good time to let me know before I make that decision! If you missed the memo on this, you can read about it in the end of this post.