Thanks for providing this space Lisa - I am just now getting caught up enough to post!
Mine was inspired by a followup visit to my cancer center CARTI. NED now but have dealt with breast cancer since 2012. These are both rough and need some work.
CARTI Castle
Five letters.
Irrevocably linked to six letters - one word -
That no one ever wants to hear.
Modern building, sterile halls.
Hidden doors in walls
Which open to reveal
The latest technoliday to screen, diagnosis, and treat.
Excalibur in the hands of modern day knights used
To prevent, predict, prolong.
The waiting rooms over three floors filled with those
Who wait.
Frightened, lonely, strong,
Determined, defiant, defeated.
All united in a common purpose.
To slay the dragons or at the very least
Confine them to their lair.
-Karri Temple Brackett
01/10/2024
Waiting
Not so nervous today, just a follow up.
Into the room, into the cape,
I know the drill.
I never read the book I bring, I just wait.
My doctor is loud and joyful in spite of her specialty and I hear
Her finishing up with a patient in the next room.
I don't begrudge the other patient going into my appointment time,
Remembering the time she took with me twelve years ago
The hope she provided; a speck of light in the darkest days of diagnosis.
She finally comes in.
This should be quick.
But then there is a moment.
Not even a moment, seconds really.
Where extra time is taken, there is a pregnant pause, a catch of concern
Before the all clear is sounded.
All is well.
But in those seconds, I am catapulted into a hypothetical future in which my world ends again.
Karri, these are both so moving, and I appreciate your willingness to share
something so tender. Both poems are so rich and complex, and it’s obvious that that richness was hard earned. A few phrases that especially touched me . . . “Frightened, lonely, strong” and “to slay the dragons or at the very least confine them to their lair” and also the gorgeous, gut-wrenching ending to the second poem - “a hypothetical future in which my world ends again.” I wish you continued healing and hope very much to read more of your poems!
Thank you Karri. These are beautiful and moving and I felt every line. Your poems portray and describe the terrible fear of even just the word and the challenge of every test and follow up. I have been in far too many cancer centers and oncologist offices and your poems front to life the often indescribable emotion and feelings that arise in those spaces. Thank you for sharing your very honest and clear poems, and a bit of yourself. May healing light be with you in each precious moment.
Thank you Larry....it feels so humbling just walking through the main imagining waiting area know that I am "ok" and wondering what is going on with all the others who wait.
I so enjoyed both of these. Surviving something like cancer is truly a hero's journey, and the metaphor of the the dragon as cancer and all those fighting it as a united front is powerful. In the second poem, I love the way in which you capture the bond of compassion and camaraderie that forms between survivors of something life-threatening, and also how beautifully you capture the terror that a moment of uncertainty can hold when you're awaiting diagnosis and prognosis.
Thank you Keith...it is such a journey. I still have online friends that I have met along the way (and sadly have lost some)....but we keep fighting on!
Thank you for sharing these poems, Karri. Some lines that stuck out to me: the haunting alliteration of "prevent, predict, prolong" and "determined, defiant, defeated," and "a catch of concern / Before the all clear is sounded." In the second poem, you replicated so well how I imagine that appointment must have felt for you. As the reader, I was humming along matter-of-factly, not particularly worried, feeling an ache for the patient next door but knowing you were fine -- and then that moment caught my breath, and I had a flash of confusion, like "Wait! This isn't how this is supposed to go!" followed by relief when you got the all clear. Thank goodness it went the way it did. Wishing you continued healing!
Oh I love and hate this poem!! I am so sorry to hear that you’re sick and that the kiddos are still not fully recovered, and of course the snow would add insult to injury by turning to rain. I love, though, how artfully this poem interacts with your last one. The ending is amazing - as is the fact that you wrote this while sick! Wishing healing for all of you. ❤️
Thank you! So far, today is much better than last night. The littles are playing normally again today, but my youngest had a rough night without me, and it seemed like maybe his stomach was still bothering him (he kept saying "ow"), which I think might have been from the spaghetti his sister requested for dinner. The last lines came to me in the bathroom last night but I had to save them for a while before I was able to write them down. 😅
May we all be so inspired in the bathroom! I'm sorry you guys are still laid up. "Pats and gurgles of rain" is so visceral for me (and so disappointing this time of the year). I also love the ending -- what a big place to land.
A., I pray for healing and recovery for your household! To be able to churn out this poem while sick is downright amazing! I love the ending as well; perhaps the best is yet to come.
My partner and I, when we are sick, tend to sleep in seperate rooms, one advantage of "empty nesting," and the person who is sick first or the sickest gets our room. Since we have both had covid together, twice, it challenged our graciojsness skills as to who got the best, and warmest, room.
Our 10 inches of snow has all melted with the heavy rains we got yesterday and today. Now the wind is howling and it feels like a long night ahead.
Thank you Larry! Still feeling a bit wobbly and achy, but otherwise much better. Sybil is back at school today and Jon is at work, so I'm snuggling with Oren and trying to continue to rest as much as possible. Your system for sleeping while sick sounds perfect - I very much tend to want to retreat to a comfortable place alone when I'm not feeling well.
I'm so sorry that you've all been in such a wretched relay of illness. Kudos to you for managing such a poetic snapshot of it all and capped it off with such wise perspective, no less. May you all be 100% well very soon.
Ah the days of littles and tummy bugs. I don’t envy you but I do have some memories of those days which could almost be considered fond. Piling on a mattress in the living room. Nothing to do but care for their needs (although adding in a sick hubby is another topic entirely. And that last line. ❤️”Perhaps the worst is not over, but neither is the best of it”
Your poem is delightful, Lisa...I could picture you impishly writing this poem in the quiet of your mind as you realized that you were (or appeared to be) alone in your amusement over the sauna interloper. The twist at the end was delish, too. Very Mary Oliveresque in your question. I got a late start on yesterday's prompt, but this poem came out as I walked outside for the first time since we got a foot of snow on Sunday:
I feel this so much, Keith! Damn those distorting introjects! And thank goodness for the beauty of the natural world, always present just beyond the walls of our buildings and minds. Your poem is so powerful. I love the sparse, to-the-point, and yet artful and inspired vibe.
Damn those distorting introjects and then some! Yes, as you and I have oft discussed, so (SO!) grateful for the curative powers of nature, and particularly our beloved arboreal ancestors (I consider you among them, btw) <3
Ohhhh, I love this, Keith! I can so relate with the poetic/creative voice ebbing when I fixate too much on productivity and, ugh, my 9 to 5 job. I started tearing up at that part, even though I didn't know what introject meant, lol! And I love the idea of nature writing (or midwifing!) your poems for you, and knowing that she's always there for you to "rotate around and back to" after periods away.
Thanks, Rebekah! I get lost so often in things I don't want to be lost in...and I don't even have a 9-5 to blame anymore! You're spot on, nature is always right where I left her, ever present and endlessly patient.
I love this and feel the same way. Nature inspires a lot of my writing directly, but also indirectly affects the way I write (and often, how much I feel I have to say) about other things.
Lovely! Nature is one of my chief inspirations but I always hesitate to write "naturey" poems for fear of coming across as too simplistic. This is perfect!
Thanks so much for the kind compliment...and for what it's worth, I don't believe there is such a thing as too simplistic...my favorite poetry comes straight from the heart!
Thank you for this one! I hope we'll get many more scenes from the sauna, it's such an interesting microcosm. I'm with Larry -- I think you should hum/sing along next time and see if you can get anyone to break protocol.
I wasn't sure I could pull any more poems out of the forest road I set mine on the other day. But once this one came, I realized I probably have more! I was inspired by Keith's love affair with Millie and realized my feelings for "Moosie" may be something like that. ;)
Lisa, I also like Reberkah's encouragement of you to write more from your sauna times, and I'm sure you could borrow her phrase "scenes from a sauna" for your book of poetry.
"Moosie!" I love that you have named, and now nicknamed your beloved road. And like Lisa, I also love the neighbor who loves Moosie like you do and committed the act of healthy disobedience by de-flagging her. That the Forest Service would name such a wonderful road by a number *and* plan to strip her of her beautiful canopy cover...oooph, so dystopian or Dickensian or something. I love "being walked" by the quiet, human-free back roads here. It inspires all kinds of things for me, too. Lastly, such fun to think of therapy having freed Moosie of the enmeshment tendencies still at play with creek.
What a wonderful poem Rebekah! You do a magnificient job at making the forest and the road, the creek and the people, come alive. I love your playful and joyful way with words. These lines:
"the road has
gone to therapy and prefers to
approach from a vantage, bending back
around the ridge as the creek is consumed
then walking the river home.
The road walks me too..."
I love the notion that the road has gone to therapy, and that the road walks river and you...that is beautiful. Stake pulling has a long history as an act of resistance--Edward Abbey writes of it,including in his "Desert Solitaire" book. I always thought that whenever stakes or flags are put out, there should be a sign saying what is planned so one would know how upset to get!
I had a long work day, and this poem I started a while ago came back to me and I tweaked and finagled and this came about. Crack the skull refers to the name of a wonderfgul local cafe and bookstore, Crackskull's. The other poem that crept up is about Crabtree Meadows in the Blue Ridge mountains of Virginia. That's for another day, or night!
Crack the Skull
“Roaring volcano cinnamon rose latte is ready.”
Michelle cheerfully shouts from the counter of her café.
Some of us turn to see who might claim the steaming drink.
I was pondering what cinnamon or a rose had to do
with a roaring volcano?
Smiling little boy cradles his chocolate chip muffin
like it was the wished for gift on his birthday,
his mom instructing him to eat from the bottom
so he does not waste anything.
He takes a big happy bite out of the top.
In the corner, a young girl practicing her persuasion,
actively convincing her mother that now is a perfect time for ice cream.
Our local writer, the other “Larry”, presides over the scrappy regulars
who commandeer the four seats by the front window,
as if they are paying rent to use them.
Serious, earnest young man at the table next to mine,
pointing to a bible and proclaiming Jesus is the only way,
frazzled college student, captive audience, seems unconvinced.
Wow, there is so much happening in your local cafe and in this poem! It feels like the whole complicated, beautiful mess of humanity lives in these encounters you describe. Thank you so much for sharing . . . and for being the lovely sort of human who buys coffee for grizzled townies!
Thank you Lisa! It feels like a goofy poem, and not nearly as much fun as actually being there. This cafe, like many of our around here, as a way of giving free coffees to folks that many of us contribute to, anoher real plus of local gathering places that are run and staffed by friends and neighbors. One day, perhas us wild and wonderful poets will all enjoy coffee or tea together in some cafe, real or virtual!
I want to go to Crackskull's! But in the meantime, I have the feeling of your poem. I love how you travel the room, finding everyone and helping us see/experience them with you -- and treating us, in our mind's sweet tooth, to a fantastical-sounding roaring volcano, a muffin top, and possibly even an ice cream. When you say "you are loved" to the grizzled townie, I feel you saying it to everyone in the room, and the reader, too. Thank you for this scene and feeling!
Rebekah, thank you for this very kind note. You have an amzing gift to be able to see deeply into other's offerings, even deeper than we may have intended! Andalsofprfolks to feeleven ebtter about something they shared. What wonderful qualities and blessings you are and that you share. You have a standing invitation to Crackskull's, my treat, for the latte, the muffin, the ice cream and even the homemade donuts which did not make their way into the poem, lilkely because I was the one eating it at the time. ,
Oh, I want to beam myself up there! I googled it and it appears that while we're at about the same latitude, we have just about every state between us. I live in Twisp, WA. Standing invitation for you and yours to drink a latte with me at Cinnamon Twisp or Blue Star, though I'm afraid they are no Crackskull's...
Rebekah, I just looked up Twisp--seems like a beautiful place! The name itself gives rise to poetic magic! Thank you for the invitation to Cinnamon Twisp and Blue Star--the names themselves are musical and magical. I like cinnamon, stars and blue, and from now on I'll add twisp to that list! We love the northwest and have friends and some family there, and it is a special region/place on this earth.
I could practically smell the cinnamon, rose and coffee. Great job inviting the reader into this riotous cafe experience, Larry! I love the "big happy bite out of the top" line - my own inner kid got a big grin reading that line. I also love the name of the poem (and the cafe)
Thank you Keith. Being a whole muffin eater, I was quietly rooting for mom in that case. It is a wonderful cafe and boikstore owned by a delightful community minded person and a wild assortment of characters working and consuming there. If you are ever in seacoast New Hampshire, it is my treat at Crackskull's!
What a place Crackskulls sounds like! I always envision living in a small town where I could walk to a local cafe such as that . When in reality I am so antisocial irl I don’t know that I would!!!
I love the way you framed each of these small moments within the café, Larry. It felt like I was there with you. I agree with Rebekah that the "you are loved" feels like it was meant as much for the reader as it was the townie, and I especially loved the little boy going straight for the top of the muffin - I generally eat them bottom-up myself, but his joy made me smile.
Thank you A. I often start at the bottom, too. Though, no matter where I start, I usually manage to eat the whole muffin! A toast and healing tea to you and your beloveds as you continue to recover and get better. You are loved!
Yay! What a way to begin the day--reading your poem! I am a serial hummer and car and alone in the room singer, though rarely use ear buds or headphones these days. Your ending is just wonderful:
"Like the closer we sit,
the farther apart,
we must all
pretend to be?"
I thought of all the times I was in a crowded metro, bus, plane, deminstration, rally, concerft and not acknowledging how close we all were. Our society seems to crave and deny closeness and intimacy. Is this genetic, cultural, learned or innate--or blends of all?
I have a 45 minute drive this morning, rain pelting down and floods in the land. I will be humming on the way. And, of course you should have hummed along!
Ohhhh what you said about our society both craving and denying intimacy rings so true to me. And I am also the sort of person who sings as I go about my day . . . just not in saunas . . . yet. Have a safe and musical drive, Larry!
I loved those last lines as well! And given that there are other cultures who do not seem to fear intimacy and interconnectedness in this way, I would argue that it's learned - at least, I hope it is, because then it can be unlearned.
Thanks for providing this space Lisa - I am just now getting caught up enough to post!
Mine was inspired by a followup visit to my cancer center CARTI. NED now but have dealt with breast cancer since 2012. These are both rough and need some work.
CARTI Castle
Five letters.
Irrevocably linked to six letters - one word -
That no one ever wants to hear.
Modern building, sterile halls.
Hidden doors in walls
Which open to reveal
The latest technoliday to screen, diagnosis, and treat.
Excalibur in the hands of modern day knights used
To prevent, predict, prolong.
The waiting rooms over three floors filled with those
Who wait.
Frightened, lonely, strong,
Determined, defiant, defeated.
All united in a common purpose.
To slay the dragons or at the very least
Confine them to their lair.
-Karri Temple Brackett
01/10/2024
Waiting
Not so nervous today, just a follow up.
Into the room, into the cape,
I know the drill.
I never read the book I bring, I just wait.
My doctor is loud and joyful in spite of her specialty and I hear
Her finishing up with a patient in the next room.
I don't begrudge the other patient going into my appointment time,
Remembering the time she took with me twelve years ago
The hope she provided; a speck of light in the darkest days of diagnosis.
She finally comes in.
This should be quick.
But then there is a moment.
Not even a moment, seconds really.
Where extra time is taken, there is a pregnant pause, a catch of concern
Before the all clear is sounded.
All is well.
But in those seconds, I am catapulted into a hypothetical future in which my world ends again.
-Karri Temple Brackett
01/10/2024
Karri, these are both so moving, and I appreciate your willingness to share
something so tender. Both poems are so rich and complex, and it’s obvious that that richness was hard earned. A few phrases that especially touched me . . . “Frightened, lonely, strong” and “to slay the dragons or at the very least confine them to their lair” and also the gorgeous, gut-wrenching ending to the second poem - “a hypothetical future in which my world ends again.” I wish you continued healing and hope very much to read more of your poems!
Thanks so much...I feel Iike I want to expound on the whole dragon/castle metaphor in the first one. But I don't want it to get too cartoonish.
Thank you Karri. These are beautiful and moving and I felt every line. Your poems portray and describe the terrible fear of even just the word and the challenge of every test and follow up. I have been in far too many cancer centers and oncologist offices and your poems front to life the often indescribable emotion and feelings that arise in those spaces. Thank you for sharing your very honest and clear poems, and a bit of yourself. May healing light be with you in each precious moment.
Thank you Larry....it feels so humbling just walking through the main imagining waiting area know that I am "ok" and wondering what is going on with all the others who wait.
You are a good soul and spirit, Karri. I wish you well.
I so enjoyed both of these. Surviving something like cancer is truly a hero's journey, and the metaphor of the the dragon as cancer and all those fighting it as a united front is powerful. In the second poem, I love the way in which you capture the bond of compassion and camaraderie that forms between survivors of something life-threatening, and also how beautifully you capture the terror that a moment of uncertainty can hold when you're awaiting diagnosis and prognosis.
Thank you Keith...it is such a journey. I still have online friends that I have met along the way (and sadly have lost some)....but we keep fighting on!
Thank you for sharing these poems, Karri. Some lines that stuck out to me: the haunting alliteration of "prevent, predict, prolong" and "determined, defiant, defeated," and "a catch of concern / Before the all clear is sounded." In the second poem, you replicated so well how I imagine that appointment must have felt for you. As the reader, I was humming along matter-of-factly, not particularly worried, feeling an ache for the patient next door but knowing you were fine -- and then that moment caught my breath, and I had a flash of confusion, like "Wait! This isn't how this is supposed to go!" followed by relief when you got the all clear. Thank goodness it went the way it did. Wishing you continued healing!
It surprised me too - I am usually a bundle of nerves but this particular follow up I excepted to be easy breezy. But for those few seconds!
Thank you for inviting us into these moments, Karri. The way you captured these experiences is so moving.
Thank you! I couldn't wait to get back to the car to scribble in my notebook!
I know that feeling!
I was hoping to revisit the prompt a bit differently today, but here we are.
My sick bed is our bed,
but his is still the couch.
He cuddles our youngest
as I clutch a large bowl,
unable to handle the
touch and movement
of our overtired toddler.
The snow is no longer
falling, light and fluffy;
now I can hear the pats
and gurgles of rain falling
outside the window as I
sip the ice water that my
husband refilled for me
between comforting our
still-sick son, and his own
trips to the bathroom.
Perhaps the worst is not over,
but neither is the best of it
Oh I love and hate this poem!! I am so sorry to hear that you’re sick and that the kiddos are still not fully recovered, and of course the snow would add insult to injury by turning to rain. I love, though, how artfully this poem interacts with your last one. The ending is amazing - as is the fact that you wrote this while sick! Wishing healing for all of you. ❤️
Thank you! So far, today is much better than last night. The littles are playing normally again today, but my youngest had a rough night without me, and it seemed like maybe his stomach was still bothering him (he kept saying "ow"), which I think might have been from the spaghetti his sister requested for dinner. The last lines came to me in the bathroom last night but I had to save them for a while before I was able to write them down. 😅
May we all be so inspired in the bathroom! I'm sorry you guys are still laid up. "Pats and gurgles of rain" is so visceral for me (and so disappointing this time of the year). I also love the ending -- what a big place to land.
Indeed! I definitely wasn't expecting to be inspired at that point, but it did lift my spirits!
I am glad you all are better!
A., I pray for healing and recovery for your household! To be able to churn out this poem while sick is downright amazing! I love the ending as well; perhaps the best is yet to come.
My partner and I, when we are sick, tend to sleep in seperate rooms, one advantage of "empty nesting," and the person who is sick first or the sickest gets our room. Since we have both had covid together, twice, it challenged our graciojsness skills as to who got the best, and warmest, room.
Our 10 inches of snow has all melted with the heavy rains we got yesterday and today. Now the wind is howling and it feels like a long night ahead.
Thank you Larry! Still feeling a bit wobbly and achy, but otherwise much better. Sybil is back at school today and Jon is at work, so I'm snuggling with Oren and trying to continue to rest as much as possible. Your system for sleeping while sick sounds perfect - I very much tend to want to retreat to a comfortable place alone when I'm not feeling well.
I am glad that healing is happening! May it continue to flow strongly in your household!
I'm so sorry that you've all been in such a wretched relay of illness. Kudos to you for managing such a poetic snapshot of it all and capped it off with such wise perspective, no less. May you all be 100% well very soon.
Thank you!
Ah the days of littles and tummy bugs. I don’t envy you but I do have some memories of those days which could almost be considered fond. Piling on a mattress in the living room. Nothing to do but care for their needs (although adding in a sick hubby is another topic entirely. And that last line. ❤️”Perhaps the worst is not over, but neither is the best of it”
Your poem is delightful, Lisa...I could picture you impishly writing this poem in the quiet of your mind as you realized that you were (or appeared to be) alone in your amusement over the sauna interloper. The twist at the end was delish, too. Very Mary Oliveresque in your question. I got a late start on yesterday's prompt, but this poem came out as I walked outside for the first time since we got a foot of snow on Sunday:
I realized today
that
nature, not me
writes poetry.
I felt it in the interior place
where truths gather
into epiphany.
When I am confined
Indoors by
illness or elements
or
distorting introjects
that prioritize
profit and productivity
over
beauty and creativity,
the poetic voice ebbs
until
I once again rotate
around and
back to nature
where
all things remain
beautiful.
I feel this so much, Keith! Damn those distorting introjects! And thank goodness for the beauty of the natural world, always present just beyond the walls of our buildings and minds. Your poem is so powerful. I love the sparse, to-the-point, and yet artful and inspired vibe.
Damn those distorting introjects and then some! Yes, as you and I have oft discussed, so (SO!) grateful for the curative powers of nature, and particularly our beloved arboreal ancestors (I consider you among them, btw) <3
Hahaha i am so delighted that you see me! I am definitely a tree on the inside, despite my confusingly human exterior.
Well, y'know. It takes one to know one, etc. ; ) I can sense the sap running through your veins!
Ohhhh, I love this, Keith! I can so relate with the poetic/creative voice ebbing when I fixate too much on productivity and, ugh, my 9 to 5 job. I started tearing up at that part, even though I didn't know what introject meant, lol! And I love the idea of nature writing (or midwifing!) your poems for you, and knowing that she's always there for you to "rotate around and back to" after periods away.
Thanks, Rebekah! I get lost so often in things I don't want to be lost in...and I don't even have a 9-5 to blame anymore! You're spot on, nature is always right where I left her, ever present and endlessly patient.
I love this and feel the same way. Nature inspires a lot of my writing directly, but also indirectly affects the way I write (and often, how much I feel I have to say) about other things.
Thanks for sharing this - yes, not only is nature my muse, it really seems to be the midwife for my poetic attempts, too.
I love this poem Keith. The first lines are a tell for the great poem to come:
"I realized today
that
nature, not me
writes poetry."
Right off, I know this is something beautiful and complelling that I want to and must read. and you end as wodnerfully as you began:
...the poetic voice ebbs
until
I once again rotate
around and
back to nature
where
all things remain
beautiful."
So sweet and what a creative way to bring us back where we started. Thank you for creating this wonderful piece!
Thanks so much for your thoughtful (and generous) comments, Larry! I'm so glad you enjoyed it :)
Lovely! Nature is one of my chief inspirations but I always hesitate to write "naturey" poems for fear of coming across as too simplistic. This is perfect!
Thanks so much for the kind compliment...and for what it's worth, I don't believe there is such a thing as too simplistic...my favorite poetry comes straight from the heart!
Thank you for this one! I hope we'll get many more scenes from the sauna, it's such an interesting microcosm. I'm with Larry -- I think you should hum/sing along next time and see if you can get anyone to break protocol.
I wasn't sure I could pull any more poems out of the forest road I set mine on the other day. But once this one came, I realized I probably have more! I was inspired by Keith's love affair with Millie and realized my feelings for "Moosie" may be something like that. ;)
My Neighbors and I Discuss a Local Road
To me it’s the Moose Road, to Pearl it’s
Lower Vista. To Joe it’s the road that goes
down the creek, which is only a tiny bit
right. The road and creek have a shared
love, the river, but while the creek wants
to lose itself there, the road has
gone to therapy and prefers to
approach from a vantage, bending back
around the ridge as the creek is consumed
then walking the river home.
The road walks me too, gives me its
robins and juncos and cougar tracks
once a coyote hustling uphill, twice
wolf sign, three times or more
bushwhacking bears, and always
no people, which is a surefire way to
get a gal like me talking, singing,
dancing even.
The Forest Service calls the road
44-115, as if it were a graphing calculator
They put up their flags which means
the road is about to lose its cover
its close green world. I thought about
removing them
and didn’t notice when they
actually disappeared. I found their grave
last week at the high point, where the road
takes a last look at the river before
lying down. I packed them out
and have since been wondering
which of my neighbors
loves like I do.
I love this! And I love whichever neighbor loves like you do!
Lisa, I also like Reberkah's encouragement of you to write more from your sauna times, and I'm sure you could borrow her phrase "scenes from a sauna" for your book of poetry.
"Moosie!" I love that you have named, and now nicknamed your beloved road. And like Lisa, I also love the neighbor who loves Moosie like you do and committed the act of healthy disobedience by de-flagging her. That the Forest Service would name such a wonderful road by a number *and* plan to strip her of her beautiful canopy cover...oooph, so dystopian or Dickensian or something. I love "being walked" by the quiet, human-free back roads here. It inspires all kinds of things for me, too. Lastly, such fun to think of therapy having freed Moosie of the enmeshment tendencies still at play with creek.
I cannot get over the language you've used here, the idea of the road going to therapy, and being walked by it. I just love it so much.
I immediately thought of removing the flags as well, and I love that one of your neighbours actually did it!
What a wonderful poem Rebekah! You do a magnificient job at making the forest and the road, the creek and the people, come alive. I love your playful and joyful way with words. These lines:
"the road has
gone to therapy and prefers to
approach from a vantage, bending back
around the ridge as the creek is consumed
then walking the river home.
The road walks me too..."
I love the notion that the road has gone to therapy, and that the road walks river and you...that is beautiful. Stake pulling has a long history as an act of resistance--Edward Abbey writes of it,including in his "Desert Solitaire" book. I always thought that whenever stakes or flags are put out, there should be a sign saying what is planned so one would know how upset to get!
I had a long work day, and this poem I started a while ago came back to me and I tweaked and finagled and this came about. Crack the skull refers to the name of a wonderfgul local cafe and bookstore, Crackskull's. The other poem that crept up is about Crabtree Meadows in the Blue Ridge mountains of Virginia. That's for another day, or night!
Crack the Skull
“Roaring volcano cinnamon rose latte is ready.”
Michelle cheerfully shouts from the counter of her café.
Some of us turn to see who might claim the steaming drink.
I was pondering what cinnamon or a rose had to do
with a roaring volcano?
Smiling little boy cradles his chocolate chip muffin
like it was the wished for gift on his birthday,
his mom instructing him to eat from the bottom
so he does not waste anything.
He takes a big happy bite out of the top.
In the corner, a young girl practicing her persuasion,
actively convincing her mother that now is a perfect time for ice cream.
Our local writer, the other “Larry”, presides over the scrappy regulars
who commandeer the four seats by the front window,
as if they are paying rent to use them.
Serious, earnest young man at the table next to mine,
pointing to a bible and proclaiming Jesus is the only way,
frazzled college student, captive audience, seems unconvinced.
I contemplate a rescue operation.
Grizzled townie sits down across from me
fiercely asks “does God care about me?”
I reply “you are loved.”
and offer to buy a coffee.
He looks away, contempt planted on his face,
says yes, then “you’re not much help.”
I go back to writing this poem.
Wow, there is so much happening in your local cafe and in this poem! It feels like the whole complicated, beautiful mess of humanity lives in these encounters you describe. Thank you so much for sharing . . . and for being the lovely sort of human who buys coffee for grizzled townies!
Thank you Lisa! It feels like a goofy poem, and not nearly as much fun as actually being there. This cafe, like many of our around here, as a way of giving free coffees to folks that many of us contribute to, anoher real plus of local gathering places that are run and staffed by friends and neighbors. One day, perhas us wild and wonderful poets will all enjoy coffee or tea together in some cafe, real or virtual!
I want to go to Crackskull's! But in the meantime, I have the feeling of your poem. I love how you travel the room, finding everyone and helping us see/experience them with you -- and treating us, in our mind's sweet tooth, to a fantastical-sounding roaring volcano, a muffin top, and possibly even an ice cream. When you say "you are loved" to the grizzled townie, I feel you saying it to everyone in the room, and the reader, too. Thank you for this scene and feeling!
Rebekah, thank you for this very kind note. You have an amzing gift to be able to see deeply into other's offerings, even deeper than we may have intended! Andalsofprfolks to feeleven ebtter about something they shared. What wonderful qualities and blessings you are and that you share. You have a standing invitation to Crackskull's, my treat, for the latte, the muffin, the ice cream and even the homemade donuts which did not make their way into the poem, lilkely because I was the one eating it at the time. ,
Oh, I want to beam myself up there! I googled it and it appears that while we're at about the same latitude, we have just about every state between us. I live in Twisp, WA. Standing invitation for you and yours to drink a latte with me at Cinnamon Twisp or Blue Star, though I'm afraid they are no Crackskull's...
Rebekah, I just looked up Twisp--seems like a beautiful place! The name itself gives rise to poetic magic! Thank you for the invitation to Cinnamon Twisp and Blue Star--the names themselves are musical and magical. I like cinnamon, stars and blue, and from now on I'll add twisp to that list! We love the northwest and have friends and some family there, and it is a special region/place on this earth.
I could practically smell the cinnamon, rose and coffee. Great job inviting the reader into this riotous cafe experience, Larry! I love the "big happy bite out of the top" line - my own inner kid got a big grin reading that line. I also love the name of the poem (and the cafe)
Thank you Keith. Being a whole muffin eater, I was quietly rooting for mom in that case. It is a wonderful cafe and boikstore owned by a delightful community minded person and a wild assortment of characters working and consuming there. If you are ever in seacoast New Hampshire, it is my treat at Crackskull's!
I would love that, Larry. And we're practically neighbors (I'm in western MA), so who knows??
That explains the snow! I love western MA--please do let me know if you come this way!
What a place Crackskulls sounds like! I always envision living in a small town where I could walk to a local cafe such as that . When in reality I am so antisocial irl I don’t know that I would!!!
We have lots of nice cafes, and we can deliver!
I love the way you framed each of these small moments within the café, Larry. It felt like I was there with you. I agree with Rebekah that the "you are loved" feels like it was meant as much for the reader as it was the townie, and I especially loved the little boy going straight for the top of the muffin - I generally eat them bottom-up myself, but his joy made me smile.
Thank you A. I often start at the bottom, too. Though, no matter where I start, I usually manage to eat the whole muffin! A toast and healing tea to you and your beloveds as you continue to recover and get better. You are loved!
Thank you, Larry! I feel loved.
Yay! What a way to begin the day--reading your poem! I am a serial hummer and car and alone in the room singer, though rarely use ear buds or headphones these days. Your ending is just wonderful:
"Like the closer we sit,
the farther apart,
we must all
pretend to be?"
I thought of all the times I was in a crowded metro, bus, plane, deminstration, rally, concerft and not acknowledging how close we all were. Our society seems to crave and deny closeness and intimacy. Is this genetic, cultural, learned or innate--or blends of all?
I have a 45 minute drive this morning, rain pelting down and floods in the land. I will be humming on the way. And, of course you should have hummed along!
Ohhhh what you said about our society both craving and denying intimacy rings so true to me. And I am also the sort of person who sings as I go about my day . . . just not in saunas . . . yet. Have a safe and musical drive, Larry!
Knowing that there is singing in the sauna might get me to do one!
I loved those last lines as well! And given that there are other cultures who do not seem to fear intimacy and interconnectedness in this way, I would argue that it's learned - at least, I hope it is, because then it can be unlearned.
I hope so too, A.