Depending who’s doing the counting, we had either one or two days of sunlight – any sunlight – in the month of January. It was pretty grim, and many of us got cranky as the month went on. The state of our nation and its politics can’t have helped. Many of us either sat glued to our news sources, unable to tear our attention away from an impeachment spectacle, or tried to ignore the whole thing. In the end, I doubt anyone’s opinion had changed on either side, and I for one was exhausted.
On Feb. 1, late in the day, the sun peaked out for about five minutes. My husband and I were walking our dogs, and I pulled out my camera. That’s the photo you see here, unretouched. Nature is glorious.
I wrote a poem in the midst of it, struggling against pessimism, flirting with hope. The act of writing is itself optimistic, I believe, and hope may triumph if I send it off to a journal in search of a home. We’ll see.
Published!
Meanwhile, I’ve had a couple of other pieces published that I failed to note here. Way back in November, my poem Buoyant found a home in goodbaad poetry journal. It was just republished at Escape into Life this week, accompanied by an original illustration by my talented husband. I’m thrilled that it has some legs—especially given that legs feature prominently in it.
I’ve also had another poem accepted at Tiny Seed Literary Journal, where it’s due to be published in March. Stay tuned!
Also over at Escape, you can find my recent review of True Confessions 1965 to Now, a lovely collection of poetry by John Guzlowski. His poems are simultaneously plain-spoken and profound, painting the world in both its beauty and horror. A couple of the poems in the book were first published on Escape, so if you read the review you’ll find links to those pieces so you can sample the book before deciding to buy it. Also, here are two recent poems from his Twitter feed that I quite like:
On a good day
— john zbigniew guzlowski (@johnguzlowski) August 11, 2018
I am Jesus and Buddha
come to life to share
the wisdom of donuts
and silence
On bad days
I'm the polyps
in my nose
and the pain
of removing them
On average days
I'm your old man
waiting at the bus stop
In the rain
without an umbrella
& singing about it
If we stand
— john zbigniew guzlowski (@johnguzlowski) February 2, 2020
looking at our hands
long enough,
they will become
the leaves that fall
from the trees