Twelfth poem of the day. I followed the prompt, which was to write a poem using at least five of the following words: moon, lake, glory, jeep, breastbone, spare, canopy, panic. This means I am officially done with the half marathon. Depending on how I feel after I come back from tonight’s reading, I may try to add a couple more. If I don’t, good night! Continue reading
If the ground doesn’t shake for too long (a poem)
It’s completely a coincidence that I wrote this last night. The first line popped into my head as I was watching the BBC’s Kate Bush documentary. The parenthetical line sums up part of my experience living in Tokyo—if more than a couple of months had passed since the last noticeable earthquake, I’d start to get a little nervous, figuring that the regular small earthquakes helped release energy that might otherwise build up to later produce a much stronger earthquake.
“We may be through with the past, but the past ain’t through with us…”
About three months ago, I wrote a story—a short story—about a childhood episode (“the Nikki incident”, I sometimes call it) that ended up having enormous influence on my life. Emerging from a period in which I got divorced, moved into a place of my own for the first time in a decade, and began re-thinking just about everything, it seemed to be the right time to confront—and dispose of—this difficult memory and what I had allowed it to do to me.
However, as the movie Magnolia puts it, “we may be through with the past, but the past ain’t through with us.” Continue reading