I want to start today’s out with a short quote I came across, from Marina Abramovic: Each time I would do a performance, I would use it as a tool to actually deal with my emotions, to stage my feelings, and to go through the things I was afraid of…it was a guided communication with the public…I found that showing vulnerability, that is the greatest thing ever. Now I don’t entirely care for how this is phrased, but I do like the sentiment. Why am I “blogging”? Why do I maintain an instagram? And so on. Something about honing self through others.

“Refusal to Mourn”, Andrea Cohen

“Residue”, Warsan Shire

I enjoy these spins on the sequence poem. Using time to define life, which it always does, but explicitly here. This reminds me of a sort of time as sequence poem I wrote a year or so ago, up next.

“House of Leaves, as Autumn becomes February”, James Bowden

I’m not sure this was even really written as a poem, but this pushed me to put it up. There’s something to it. I’m not quite sure. I like the title, which I came up with just now. Even revisiting this poem, memory flees me.

“[I’ve meant to tell you many things about my life]”, Alice Notley

I like this description of some inherent internal terrible pain that cannot be bandaged.

“The Letter”, Linda Gregg

There’s a nice mood to this one, a contentness. It reminds me of the time when I wrote the above House of Leaves poem. I was sitting at a table outside of the Red Door, supposed to be taking a meeting, but instead reading and listening to the Archduke Trio and Elgar’s Cello Concerto and the wind was brushing through the grasses and my hair and I was all splayed out across my chair and life felt wonderful, even coming off such loss. I’m also interested by the Perhaps poetry replaces something in me that others receive more naturally bit, but I shall let this one marinate. This feels like a good note to end on.