I learned young that poetry was a way of knowing. I also learned that if I wanted to earn any money ("I guess we were at the back of the line when they handed out jobs," Joy Harjo said in presentation), I would also need to teach. Poems get published, but they don't pay the bills and, truth be told, the world distracts and pulls is in directions to keep the lights on and the dog fed. This is why I love April. It's #VerseLove and EthicalELA pulls together great minds and teachers to simply write poetry for the month. It's nice to restore the oxygen when it comes back my way.
In a world long before this one, there was enough foreveryone, Until somebody got out of line. We heard it was Rabbit, fooling around with clay and the wind. Everybody was tired of his tricks and no one would play with him;He was lonely in this world. (not Harjo's spacing, but how it falls to the page on this Blog)
On my shelves are several of Harjo's publications and I forgot how great a presenter she is....of the Gods...of the mystics...of a celestial realm. When she speaks, you feel like all rivers and histories and sermons and folktales are flying through her. I'm trying to recall when I first met her...Sante Fe? Breakloaf? University of Louisville? I just remember having the same feeling in her presence...of being both miraculously small, yet larger than life itself. It's the same way I felt around Ruth Stone when I studied with her and Aletha Fields when we were in our younger years, first teaching, and sharing our poems with one another (she, taking it to stage and wowing whoever heard her read).
I woke up this morning, looked at the calendar, and realized the only appointment I have is for Karal to visit the Prelis. I can grade and for those who are in academia and are sucked into meetings all the time, it is joyous to spend a day with student work.
And I'll be singing Happy Birthday to Papi Butch who I hope to see early next week. 6th of March. Every year. 2 weeks and 4 days after my Aquarian celebration. He's the water sign known for compassion, empathy, and intuition (which was definitely not him while growing up, at least for the immediately family, but something he grew into in his later years....knowing when the lawn needs to be mowed (every day) or someone's garbage can needs to returned to the front of their house). That's intuition, and all love now that a blooming flower, a marching band, a video about my mother's 80 years on life can make him cry with love and joy. Again, that was not him growing up. It's who he is now, when he was able to let himself feel, chill out from work, and not tempted by Chubby's and the Clam Bar so much.
Yes, there's poetry to life and I'm glad I learned that early on. Son of a Butch & Sue. Remarkable.
