The fella is sick. The classroom is crazy. The computer is on the fritz.
I'm still grateful.
1. Harvey's death was 9 months ago today. It has been a long set of trimesters--shock, anger, depression. I'm ready for a rebirth. I will love him always. I'm so enormously grateful for the ways that he changed me.
2. My pink linen dress from 1987--the one I wore when we were married--is one size smaller than I am now. There's a possibility it may fit this time next year--but if it doesn't? I'm okay with that. I feel so much better now that I'm not carting around triple digits of extra weight. Maybe I'll stick around longer to be grateful for more things in my life.
3. Every day, in every way, I am grateful to God for not deserting me, even when I was ready to give up on love, life, and laughter. Every day, in every way, I wonder how people survive this type of grief. I'm irrevocably changed, but someday I'll be completely changed, and I will see Harvey again. I long for that day, but I don't want that day to be tomorrow, or this day, as I did when I thought I'd die, and wanted to, and even thought about dying, without him.
4. I am grateful to Sewanee for asking me back. What a wonderful surprise!
5. My cat is a comfort, such an attention seeking lap warmer. I'm so glad he's stopped looking for Harvey in every room. That was heartbreaking. (He still sleeps on one of Harvey's t-shirts that I don't have the heart to pick up and wash. It's in Shadow's bed).
6. Poetry always wins. Always. Over fiction, over prose, over art, movies, flowers. It's poetry.
7. I have really cute shoes today. I found a pair of black Puma flats that are cute and comfortable. I want another pair, because I'm sure these will be worn out!
8. Frank O'Hara. He is becoming my touchstone. I have learned so much about art, music, phrasing, the line from him. And he was never ever taught to me. I make sure my students get to spend a little time with him--every single semester. Others come, others go, but he and Bishop remain, right up there with Keats and Walt Whitman.
9. Emergen-C. It really really works.
10. Spinach salads with Greek dressing, almonds, and peppers. Healthy and pretty. As I aspire to be.
Here's a little Frank for you. I put him on FB this morning, but I'm always willing to share my favorites again. It's a poetics statement for me, why I write what I write, why I shape it as the poem requires, not what the form requires of the poem.
MY HEART--Frank O'Hara
I'm not going to cry all the time
nor shall I laugh all the time,
I don't prefer one "strain" to another.
I'd have the immediacy of a bad movie,
not just a sleeper, but also the big,
overproduced first-run kind. I want to be
at least as alive as the vulgar. And if
some aficionado of my mess says "That's
not like Frank!", all to the good! I
don't wear brown and grey suits all the time,
do I? No. I wear workshirts to the opera,
often. I want my feet to be bare,
I want my face to be shaven, and my heart--
you can't plan on the heart, but
the better part of it, my poetry, is open.
I'm still grateful.
1. Harvey's death was 9 months ago today. It has been a long set of trimesters--shock, anger, depression. I'm ready for a rebirth. I will love him always. I'm so enormously grateful for the ways that he changed me.
2. My pink linen dress from 1987--the one I wore when we were married--is one size smaller than I am now. There's a possibility it may fit this time next year--but if it doesn't? I'm okay with that. I feel so much better now that I'm not carting around triple digits of extra weight. Maybe I'll stick around longer to be grateful for more things in my life.
3. Every day, in every way, I am grateful to God for not deserting me, even when I was ready to give up on love, life, and laughter. Every day, in every way, I wonder how people survive this type of grief. I'm irrevocably changed, but someday I'll be completely changed, and I will see Harvey again. I long for that day, but I don't want that day to be tomorrow, or this day, as I did when I thought I'd die, and wanted to, and even thought about dying, without him.
4. I am grateful to Sewanee for asking me back. What a wonderful surprise!
5. My cat is a comfort, such an attention seeking lap warmer. I'm so glad he's stopped looking for Harvey in every room. That was heartbreaking. (He still sleeps on one of Harvey's t-shirts that I don't have the heart to pick up and wash. It's in Shadow's bed).
6. Poetry always wins. Always. Over fiction, over prose, over art, movies, flowers. It's poetry.
7. I have really cute shoes today. I found a pair of black Puma flats that are cute and comfortable. I want another pair, because I'm sure these will be worn out!
8. Frank O'Hara. He is becoming my touchstone. I have learned so much about art, music, phrasing, the line from him. And he was never ever taught to me. I make sure my students get to spend a little time with him--every single semester. Others come, others go, but he and Bishop remain, right up there with Keats and Walt Whitman.
9. Emergen-C. It really really works.
10. Spinach salads with Greek dressing, almonds, and peppers. Healthy and pretty. As I aspire to be.
Here's a little Frank for you. I put him on FB this morning, but I'm always willing to share my favorites again. It's a poetics statement for me, why I write what I write, why I shape it as the poem requires, not what the form requires of the poem.
MY HEART--Frank O'Hara
I'm not going to cry all the time
nor shall I laugh all the time,
I don't prefer one "strain" to another.
I'd have the immediacy of a bad movie,
not just a sleeper, but also the big,
overproduced first-run kind. I want to be
at least as alive as the vulgar. And if
some aficionado of my mess says "That's
not like Frank!", all to the good! I
don't wear brown and grey suits all the time,
do I? No. I wear workshirts to the opera,
often. I want my feet to be bare,
I want my face to be shaven, and my heart--
you can't plan on the heart, but
the better part of it, my poetry, is open.
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