originally posted on independent study, Monday, August 10, 2009
While reworking my bookshelves these past few days, attempting to
make room for my bulging collection, I've been drawn to a few titles: Morning Poems (Bly), Lunch Poems (O'Hara), Chicago Poems (Sandburg). Selected Poems.
The
first two come from a pattern in writing, a kind of methodical
progress. Since I left high school teaching and started the MFA
program, I've lost my pendulous routine--I would write during my prep
hour, one poem, send it to a friend, who also would send me one poem a
day. Now, each day is shaded differently from the one before, my
wake-up time off kilter, and with classes, there is no promise from one
day to the next.
I've been carrying a sheaf of poems
with me, enough for a chapbook, that has begun to be referred to as "the
grandfather poems." This can't be the title; I can't imagine how many
people who would turn away from such a collection. But for now, I have
my own little collection with a unifying title. Many of which came from
those poem-a-day practices while still teaching high school.
Aside: See what Obama has been caught reading. I especially appreciate that on my birthday last year, he was reading a book of poems.
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1 comment:
"I would write during my prep hour, one poem, send it to a friend, who also would send me one poem a day."--love this, Molly!
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