Life Is Selfish…

…and thank goodness for that bit. The moment life stops being self-centered, death comes and steals the show. Nothing against death, who looks so chic in all her black and bone motifs. But… some of the best feels require some flesh.

Like coffee, can you see me delighting in coffee without using some tongue?
Exactly! Tongueless coffee might be joyless (and, perhaps, impossible),
especially on cloudy days (when we want to grin even if the sun is in a mood).

Anyhoo, life wants more Magaly for herself (who can blame her? I’m freaking awesome), and I must indulge her wants. No major changes. Just that I’ll post stories and poems only on Tuesdays. But worry not (well, maybe a bit), since I promise (threaten?) to stalk you on Facebook and Instagram every single day.

And for the 13 or 31 of you who are not on Facebook or Instagram, I shall post FB and Insta recaps (photos, poem bits, random rants) every other week or so. These recaps shall include writing updates and riotous ramblings about what I (and one of my parasols) get up to in The Woods and in The City.

 

the recaps and rambles will look something like this:

Last year, my Piano Man got me a red parasol.
I love it (not just because it’s red), but because it makes everything cooler.
Also, someone on FB said the pattern looks like veins and arteries,
which makes it cooler in a whole new way.

 

The pomelo seedling below was birthed from a fruit I ate some months ago…
I’m wondering if the tea (I hope to get from its leaves) will be just as sweet.
The wee stone in the pot followed me home from Friday Harbor.

in the spring,
soft leaves and heart stones
grow beauty

 

writing and stuff…
– I am rewriting some of my old stories and poems, trying to decide which collection to publish first. Or if I want to go for a twosome. We shall see…

What about you, my Luvs, what have you and life been up to these days?

To Want Is Not Enough

To want is not enough…

to keep me,

you must love

your want.

the (not so) wee notes…
– I spent most of last night talking to a friend who is having a total gastrectomy as I write this note. She’s worried about the pain and discomfort that will come with recovery. She fears the pain-boredom combination “will drive [her] nuts” (a body can’t get very physical after stomach surgery). “How do you deal with it (pain)?” she asked me. “How do you keep your mind from wanting to escape your head?” I told her the truth: “I busy my skull with tales. Then, I challenge my brain to remember them until my hands have the time to birth them in ink.”

She sighed… and reminded me that not everyone has my memory. I explained that when one feels like pain is eating one’s gut from the inside, remembering epics is not an option. If you have been walking this blogging journey with me for a while, my Wicked Luvs, you might remember why I started dancing with poetry. I didn’t do it because I thought poetry was easier than fiction *eyeroll*. I welcomed poetry into my life because almost anyone can remember a line or three (pain be damned). The remembering is easy. The hard part is what keeps the brain-housing group busy: I distract myself from pain by embracing all the effort it takes to shape the remembered lines into poetry.

Take the micropoem above, as an example: I crafted the blackout part on a day I couldn’t get out of bed much. When sitting up became tiresome (and torture on my lower back), I put the old book aside, and started to play with the shape of the poem in my head. “To want is not enough” says quite a bit. But I wanted the poem to say more. Not enough for what? for instance. So, I added the 2nd and 3rd lines to answer that question. And lastly, the 4th line to reiterate what it is that the subject must love if she wants to keep the speaker.

Doing that used some time, but… my gut still wasn’t ready to let me get on my feet. So… of course, I worked it some more. I played with the structure, layered the lines so that they would say other things within the poem bit. To me (and to some of you, I hope), this poem doesn’t only say

To want is not enough…

to keep me,

you must love

your want.

It also says:

– To want is not enough to keep me
and…
– to keep me, you must love
and…
me, you must love
and…
must love your want
and…
…it probably says things that I haven’t seen (yet).

 

That’s the magic of micropoetry (and of all heart-kissed poetry), methinks. Just a bit can say everything… if we brain-love that bit enough.

– while we are on the subject of brain-loving poetry, if you have a minute or 13, visit Poets United, where Sherry is featuring my poem, “How Different We Are Not”, next to the poetic yumminess of Kerry O’Connor and Rajani.

– linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads.