Your work blows me away. It's so layered and thought-provoking. In a poem of many rich moments, this struck me most on a dark morning: "The light does not hesitate/at the edge of the table."
Thank you, Lev. Some of the ideas in this poem hark back to a poem I wrote in 2024, called “The Assembly of Words” which concerns a group of words discussing the kind of lines they want to appear in, like actors in a play, and bemoaning the fact they can’t find the poets to write them.
The poem closes with one of them speaking these lines:
“ I want a poetry that will gorge itself on darkness and spit out a mouthful of light. I want to be one of the words in a line that creates such poetry, and I want this poetry to find the poet who will write it.”
I’m not certain I am that poet, but I try to honor the idea.
That's quite a mission. Mutatis mutandis, it made me think of the writer in The Voyage Out who says they want to write a book about the things people *don't* say.
Sorry to be long in replying but I did and value the reading of it. So many glimpses into emotions and relationships that ring quietly true. Transplanted 2 small struggling Norway spruce from the shade of their parent trees to full sun. Hoping they will take root and become as tall as their parent trees which my children once climbed when I was blissfully unaware.
A little field our neighbor once planted corn in and tilled a section for a kitchen garden, my kids grew up helping with it. We built my husband’s studio adjacent to the field (it is part of our property). The neighbor passed away and I have been mowing the field and thinking about what to do, I moved the kitchen garden a few years ago. The field is a good buffer between us and the heavier agriculture. The trees seem perfect there.
Beautiful, Paul. Maybe that’s why we write poems: ”but where it leaves just enough behind to be mistaken for truth.” Because sometimes, regardless of truth, we need to be wrapped in the comfort of our own words. Even more important—we gift a poem, and like a diamond—each facet catches the light differently, turning shadows into color.
Hi Paul, the apparent simplicity of your words brings ever more clearly the existential reality of being. Your words are continually more powerful this way. Daniel
871 words lie in the space between spaces in long lines and know that the universe will hear them once the movement begins to feel the emotion to be brought into existence.
Good Thursday, @Lor, and thank you for this restack
Your work blows me away. It's so layered and thought-provoking. In a poem of many rich moments, this struck me most on a dark morning: "The light does not hesitate/at the edge of the table."
Thank you, Lev. Some of the ideas in this poem hark back to a poem I wrote in 2024, called “The Assembly of Words” which concerns a group of words discussing the kind of lines they want to appear in, like actors in a play, and bemoaning the fact they can’t find the poets to write them.
The poem closes with one of them speaking these lines:
“ I want a poetry that will gorge itself on darkness and spit out a mouthful of light. I want to be one of the words in a line that creates such poetry, and I want this poetry to find the poet who will write it.”
I’m not certain I am that poet, but I try to honor the idea.
You astound me.
You remember that poem from “An Assembly of Words,” Patris? It’s sort of a manifesto that isn’t.
If manifestos are sung in clear voices, by poets, yes..
That's quite a mission. Mutatis mutandis, it made me think of the writer in The Voyage Out who says they want to write a book about the things people *don't* say.
That’s an interesting idea. I want to write about all the dreams I never had but might have if I had been brave enough to think of them.
Thank you for restacking this poem, @Kathleen Hobbs 🙏😊
You’re welcome, Paul
Thank you for restacking this poem, @Kimberly Root. Have you finished reading Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows?
Sorry to be long in replying but I did and value the reading of it. So many glimpses into emotions and relationships that ring quietly true. Transplanted 2 small struggling Norway spruce from the shade of their parent trees to full sun. Hoping they will take root and become as tall as their parent trees which my children once climbed when I was blissfully unaware.
Wonderful addition, Kimberly. Are they in your yard or…?
A little field our neighbor once planted corn in and tilled a section for a kitchen garden, my kids grew up helping with it. We built my husband’s studio adjacent to the field (it is part of our property). The neighbor passed away and I have been mowing the field and thinking about what to do, I moved the kitchen garden a few years ago. The field is a good buffer between us and the heavier agriculture. The trees seem perfect there.
Sounds like just the right place for them to flourish!
What a wonderful mistake
Good morning, Earl, and thank you for reading and for your comment that connects so well to the final lines.😊
It only takes a small taste of the truth to reveal a larger lesson!
Thanks Stan
Beautiful, Paul. Maybe that’s why we write poems: ”but where it leaves just enough behind to be mistaken for truth.” Because sometimes, regardless of truth, we need to be wrapped in the comfort of our own words. Even more important—we gift a poem, and like a diamond—each facet catches the light differently, turning shadows into color.
Thank you, Lor—love your closing lines!
So good. 🩵 I have to read it many times over.
Hi Paul, the apparent simplicity of your words brings ever more clearly the existential reality of being. Your words are continually more powerful this way. Daniel
Thank you for this comment, Daniel. I do try to use plain language, as I wrote in my poem “Plainly Speaking” posted March 31st:
This is all I have:
plain speech
like bread
like water.
Enough to keep me alive.
I offer them to you.
As they were offered to me.
Hi Paul, plain yes. Profound truth? Yes! Dsniel
🙏😊
So much lives on the lines. I am glad my lines can hold the pressure of my pen.
Thank you for reading and commenting. 🙏😊
Thank you, @Alison Redford, for this restack, and for your continued support!
Thanks for sharing this, @KathieOC
Thank you, Diane and @Blue Citizen 77 for this restack!
871 words lie in the space between spaces in long lines and know that the universe will hear them once the movement begins to feel the emotion to be brought into existence.
Lovely! Pregnant words poets deliver for us💙
That is beautiful! A line is a key. You know where the door is, but it only leads to something useful if you find the right door to take next.