“And now for our (optional) prompt. This one is a bit complex, so I saved it for a Sunday. It’s a Spanish form called a “glosa” – literally a poem that glosses, or explains, or in some way responds to another poem. The idea is to take a quatrain from a poem that you like, and then write a four-stanza poem that explains or responds to each line of the quatrain, with each of the quatrain’s four lines in turn forming the last line of each stanza. Traditionally, each stanza has ten lines, but don’t feel obligated to hold yourself to that!”NaPoWriMo
“The witchery of living
is my whole conversation
with you my darlings.
All I can tell you is what I know.”
-Mary Oliver, “To begin with, sweet grass”
I sit at 90 degree angles most of my days Breathing in shallow patterns Oxygen does not visit my whole body Knots tighten like highway congestion At my shoulder blades and hips I ache for touch As I peer out my window The parking lot empty and loud But alas that is The witchery of living How will my weekly meals pan out? Will my brain silence for a moment? What if I embarrass myself? Could you rest your eyes from the screen? What if I am accused of laziness? What if you took a rest? How can I be sure of anything? Why not embrace the wind? What if I do not wake? Is my whole conversation With myself Inside loops of nonstop thoughts Endless feeds Constant buzzing, beeping, ringing Familiar chaos Nostalgic itchings Addictive scratching The lock and key of ancestral chemical reactions But With you my darlings I begin to see it Surgical masks littered at the roots of ancient trees Evidence of life here and now Airplanes roaring, gunshots firing, birds singing Carpeted floor, untouchable kindness Cold water against teeth meant for joy Burning popcorn, daffodils All I can tell you is what I see, hear, touch All I can tell you is what I taste and smell All I can tell you is what I know