April is 2/3 over. I haven't done anything for National Poetry Month, and that makes me sad. I usually force my favorite poetry onto the interwebs this time of year, but this year I've been rather overwhelmed with health issues and Mayo Clinic appointments and hospitals. It's been hard, and scary, and very, very tiring, but also very, very good and full of getting-better-ness. In the midst of it all, I've felt like I simply have had no time for poetry. But this evening, I took some time with my all-time favorite poet. As usual, I came across a poem which captured what I was feeling and thinking perfectly. I especially like it because it's a prose-poem, and I tend to be picky about prose-poems, but I like this one . . .
1) Know the pinetrees. Know the orange dryness of sickness
and death in needle and cone. Know them too in green health,
those among whom your life is laid.
2) Know the ship you sail on. Know it's timbers. Deep the
fjord waters where you sail, steep the cliffs, deep the unknown
coast goes the winding fjord. But what would you
have? Would you be tied up to a sandwhite quay in perpetual
sunshine, yards and masts sprouting little violet mandolins?
3) In city, in suburb, in forest, no way to stretch out the
arms--so if you would grow, go straight up or deep down.