beyond fomo

 

NCTE24 is happening and I am beyond FOMO, friends; 

I simply am missing out, 

and it was my choice; I made my bed and now

I am lying in it, the same bed as always,

not an enormous one in a hotel in Boston, 

perhaps with a good friend across the room, 

painting amid the white sheets.

I'm here in my wee house 

watching Bluesky blow up

with announcements of 

panels and keynotes 

signing and meetups

while Google Photos helpfully encourages me 

to "revisit the moment,"

and I do, and I remember I chose this

instead of wincing at the cost, wondering what to pack, 

getting to the airport, navigating the convention site, 

and tolerating the overload of .... delight!

I will take delight in your delight, friends who attend,

from the comfort of my own home, and, 

preparing in leisurely fashion

for the holiday of gratitude I will give gratitude for the many years I did attend, how I learned to decide that I could go as teacher or as poet but probably not as both in that compacted weekend of four days; for the many people I met, "famous" and not famous, doing the sacred work of passing the word; grat-itude for the conversations, for the simple immersion in the practice of literature, and maybe,

just maybe, I will reconsider my idea that NCTE 

does not hold enough for me anymore and 

plan to go next year after all because 

this MO is FOrkin' painful!

******************

WHISPERshout Magazine has been on a little hiatus while I worked out some kinks in my attitude (sooo many kinks in my attitude, friends; discernment is not for sissies, as they say), but the Editorial We is BACK!  Please enjoy work by kids ages 4-12 in this  November issue full of 

tiny ENORMOUS poems.

https://bit.ly/WHISPERshoutMag-Nov24

Thanking Ruth at There is no such thing as a God-forsaken town for hosting us today--she always brings warm wisdom and a worldly view to our community.

a poem for the morning after

 Just this, from 6 am on 11/6:

Be, my friends. Be well if you can, be strong, be sanctuary if possible; be yourself.

simple songs

How-do, fellow poets.  Earlier this week I was sitting on my porch in the unseasonable weather doing something demandingly complex when I heard, from my high-up, leaf-screened position, a whistled tune coming up the block. The whistler never came as far as my house, so I couldn't identify them, but I so appreciated the pause, the familiar melody: "'Tis a gift to be simple, 'tis a gift to be free, 'tis a gift to come down where we ought to be..."

And then, the next evening, scrolling, scrolling as we do, I came across Yo-Yo Ma sitting on the edge of his sofa, playing the same tune on his cello. The caption was "A #songofcomfort for anyone who needs it." Interesting, right? I mean, it's kind of a jig tune, full of uplift to my ear, not cradling, and yet it IS comforting to think of simplicity as the freedom and of coming DOWN as the comfort, right? I have more thoughts on this song and how my perception of it has changed over the years, but for now: thanks, Shakers. Thanks, Aaron Copland. Thanks, Yo-Yo Ma. Thanks, Disembodied Whistler.

The reason I'm thinking these simple thoughts is that our Inklings Challenge for November--yes! it is November!--is a simple one from Linda Mitchell: 

Use this poem by Joy Harjo as a mentor text in any way that makes your heart happy.

Fall Song

It is a dark fall day.
The earth is slightly damp with rain.
I hear a jay.
The cry is blue.
I have found you in the story again.
Is there another word for ‘‘divine’’?
I need a song that will keep sky open in my mind.
If I think behind me, I might break.
If I think forward, I lose now.
Forever will be a day like this
Strung perfectly on the necklace of days.
Slightly overcast
Yellow leaves
Your jacket hanging in the hallway
Next to mine.

It seems to me the height of simplicity, this poem. Not too long. No fancy words. Some rhymed lines, but nothing too obvious or spectacular; rhythms irregular but pleasing, repetition present but light. And the moment, the emotion--simple but deeply abiding. I decided I wanted to recreate all this in the voice of a kid. I think she's around 9. I tried to stay close to the structure of Joy's* poem.

Thanks for this simple gift, Joy, and Linda for pointing it out to us. You can see what the other Inklings have done with the challenge below, and Patricia has our All Souls' Day roundup at Reverie. Also, I'd like to apologize for doing a substandard job on my commenting lately, friends. I'm working on some new kinds of projects lately and having trouble judging how long things will take and how tired it will make me! And don't you find that everything feels a little harder these last few weeks?

#manifestblue

#manifestgreen

#manifestpeace

#standonthesideoflove

and I'll see you on the other side...

Mary Lee Hahn @ A(nother) Year of Reading

Catherine Flynn @ Reading to the Core

Molly Hogan @ Nix the Comfort Zone

Linda Mitchell @ A Word Edgewise
Margaret Simon @ Reflections on the Teche

*Yes, in my mind, I call all poets, even the great ones, by their first names. Or their first and last names. I call Kamala Kamala and Joe Joe. I hardly ever name you-know-who but in my mind I call him Donnie and try to remember that he was little once too. It excuses nothing but it's good human empathy training. I will admit that in the last week I've been calling that other guy Eff Bezos.