Or three gifts.
First, there is 12 x 12.
Twelve manuscripts (though shaggy-rough) in 12 months. The social support. The participant guest bloggers.
Second, one of those guest bloggers was Laura Purdie Salas. She contributed a soul-fattening article full of reference and resource for April National Poetry Month.
If poetry is remotely intriguing, Google it out and read it through. For me it was rich, filling, and itchy… at least it made my fingers itch, and it felt like spring at the same time. (Allergies! Nope… unless it was a reaction to the act of writing). It was all good.
And third: I broke. Or calved. Or melted. Or caved. Or just dripped.
I wrote. And like the picture, there is far more work being produced under the surface, on my art desk, and scattered about the house in bits, than shows up here.
So, on the trajectory that imperfect verse is better than non-existent good verse, and trying to sum up what I had been feeling for the past months, I had to comment on her post in the same vein as her gift to me. Copied here:
The Unexpected Calving of Mt. Frigidaire
I thought it was just winter
But after many springs
And partial thaws
Cynical, I click and Google-off
To find a 5-star mega microwave
to melt the massive
Stopped here instead.
Laura’s solar radiation,
A somewhat sharpened pencil push,
And ultraviolet wavelength.
Yep. Since it’s part of my growing/changing process, I want to include it here.