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dear monday me / june 6, 2011

6 Jun

monocacy park, june 2011

june bugs buzz where the tracks cross the trail;
around the last bend a festival of fisherchildren fly.

celebration, unexpected.
complete with port-o-potties, popcorn stands, and trophies to scale.
this city lives up to its name.

yet the water holds its ground,
despite jabbing young hooks on parallel banks.
smoothness unbothered in its saturday swell.

in a week of deep diving solitude,
you channel this illusion of stillness.
there is much beneath the surface,
yet peace lands with the water-bugs, gently on the glassy green.

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dear monday me / february 14, 2011

14 Feb

a saturday jog brings to mind the cliche: stop and smell . . . .

but all that smells in frozen days is dark and dirty.

the only warmth you pass comes in signature scent: au naturel.

the dog’s droppings, last night’s street sick — both lie preserved on the icy snow, fossils on display for winter’s tourists.

no flowers step up to lessen their fetid force.

you hold your breath to pass, all of nature holds its warmth.

but motives must be checked.

what is frozen soon will melt; will it be better for the ice age?

crack another cliche’s ice: dig deep to find what’s being preserved beneath,

catch the scent of what is growing, but don’t interrupt!

be ready, get set: prepare your inner hound to put nose to ground and track the scent at thaw’s starting melt.

——

the snow is indeed starting to melt this week! just in time for another blizzard i’m sure. while you’re pondering the wonders of old man winter – don’t forget to check out the next chapter in the collective‘s serial story. i had so much fun writing last week and am thrilled to see where our next relay-writer has taken us. check out the whole story here!

dear monday me / february 7, 2011

7 Feb
Elizabeth Roemer (1929- ), at her desk at the University of California Lick Observatory, c. 1963

click for photo credit

you said you wanted challenge,

a push, a shove, a test of strength.

a new year . . . with pruning and practice on the front burner.

and then . . . moving it to the side, the back, and finally the bottom drawer.

it lives there forgotten, by routine and creature comforts.

yet the drawer is rich with soil, and the challenge grows unnoticed, bigger and bigger until it breaks its iron cage and demands your attention.

so you feed it, commitment for starters and a harsh red pen to quench the hunger.

dessert will depend on dedication.

—–

as much as i’ve tried to avoid it, my resolution to turn my mind towards work on writing as craft this year is hounding me.

this week my chapter in the Frank Sinatra Lonergan saga is up – and let me tell you – a serial story is no cake walk. but what fun! check it out over at The Collective and be sure to read the great writing of the rest of the team. good people.

happy monday!