codi gave me this starting point for working on a poem: "... how about a poem about those houses and moves. Possibly a physical description of each (maybe just a word), plus a descriptive word or phrase about an overwhelming feeling or experience from each place." and i have been working on that today. i listed the 23 houses by street name in chronological order and gave some descriptions for each. . . which got me thinking on the nature of houses & apartments--people moving out and in, leaving their traces and stories hanging in the air, their sounds melted into the walls:::::::::::::::::i'm excited for this poem assignment, think it brings rich possibilities!:::::::::;;
Shall I write about love in each house, how does love happen in each house? Think about the major things that happen in apartments and houses we rent out: we conceive children there, we fight, we kiss, we play, we make poems and songs, we sweat and breathe, we cry in our beds alone, we sleep, we hold resentments, we make food. I am thinking about what happens in houses.
A house. Dangling for hours like a thread in dreamtime above my head—
And what will I do when I don’t have any money, yellow bee?
What should I do now that Finn calls cicadas morning bugs?
What about our backbone’s elbow,
Our gift of anything,
This boat that is full of us?
What if each house was a boat?
I want to make each house a boat.
Each house is a boat: each house is a boat: each house is a boat (23 times).
But can there be a place where everyone is?
Can anyone tell me where?
Come forth and speak.
"But the space of birth is who I am now.
Birth is my boat now, still, even though three years ago."
I planted him; I pushed him out; a full growing tree; cicada’s eeee-eeee.
Three years ago right now it was storming and Finn was brewing in my body:
Tomorrow, three years ago, I stand, dancing out a full hip-swaying contraction in direct August sun, next to a clump of tall sunflowers.
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