Poetics and Gratitude (from April 15)

and my heart--

you can't plan on the heart, but

the better part of it, my poetry, is open.

(Frank O'Hara, "My Heart"

GRATITUDE JOURNAL

1. I've worried for a long time about my poetics. I wonder why I write in open form, or form that the poem dictates, rather than form dictated by the rich tradition of our guild and imposed on the poem. In "My Heart," Frank has summed this up for me, just as he's clarified how to use the line for me, how to control breath and breadth in a poem, how to write about art and music and movies.

I wish I'd known you, Frank. I'd have bought you a Coke, and we could have talked about our shared crush on Kenneth Koch (the pun in the title "Having a Coke with You"). Thank you for being my touchstone in so many ways. From you and Bishop, Whitman and Emily, Tennyson and Donne, Sexton and Sylvia and Maxine, I've learned so much this year. And Stevens, Wallace Stevens, without whom I'd not survive this grief.

2. Flynn, I do cherish your hands and your smarts and your sense of humor. Can I get a witness? Can I get a witness? Can I get a witness? (Lather. Rinse. Repeat).

And you already have a big fine car. Maybe some day I'll get to drive it. (See video).

3. The days of Lent are drawing to a close. Lemon Lift, Red Zinger, Constant Comment, Earl Grey...oh I miss your tart citrus on my tongue, your clear ruby color in my cup, your cinnamon and bergamot top notes steaming from the teapot and infusing the room (bathed every vein in such liquor). I want to use my Alice in Wonderland tea set and host a tea party. I even have the Johnny Depp hat and promise to wear it on Easter Sunday for said tea ceremony.

4. Taxes. I am grateful for what they do for the government, and I don't mind paying them. I do mind all the electronic BS that goes with filing an extension.

5. Baseball. A. Pujols and my beloved Cardinals need encouragement. I'm hopeful someone will take me out to a ball game. I'd love to go with my son to St. Louis. We've never been to a game together, and I've not been to one in over 30 years. Harvey was wonderful in so many aspects, and I couldn't bear to ask him to take me to a game. He hated sports until the very last year of our marriage, when he willingly watched the Super Bowl with me. (Baseball doesn't translate well to television. It's so beautiful live).