Echo Light, big Red Hen event this Sunday

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This weekend is big, there is much to do. There is the party tonight. There is the board meeting and the cocktail party tomorrow. This morning we went to the flower market; we got many flowers: Sunflowers, snapdragons, many orange gerber daisies, mums, all happy flowers. There was a discussion of flowers during the arranging, some said that there are sad flowers: Irises, lilies, gardenias.

I like flowers whether they are happy or sad.

We have the luncheon on Sunday with 200 plus people. Readings with Alice Sebold, Charles Yu and C.D. Wright. You should come! If you haven’t already bought a ticket, then come by the day of the event and buy one!

My office is full of flowers.

I am trying to remember my name so I can write it in the sky.

There are binoculars on my desk. I can watch for things. I am watching.

I have two books coming out next year. One is The Goldilocks Zone, the other is Echo Light. Here is a poem from Echo Light and a C.D. Wright poem that I love.
The world is big and full of stars.

Double Journey

A double journey conscious seeing.
Open faced dreaming.
The sky undressed to the ankles.
Down came the hair, the blouse, the skirt.
In pictures, I look like a round apple.

Are you a part-time waitress?
I’m not part-time anything.
Everything I do is full time.
Mostly, I’m a full time flounder.
Floundering through my life.

It was all a rage of white-washed memory.
It was all a lie. The light is fading.
There are no trees in the house.
We put them in the backyard.
The outside creeps them out, the trees.

The trees would like the sky
to themselves, their phallic tips
into all that blue white cloudscape.
If you have your way with the sky,
the orgasm is enormous.

It was all open faced dreaming. In pictures
I looked like a nomad with a round belly.
Brown face and legs, everything else very pale.
There’s blue rising and underneath a round table.
The pillars no longer hold up the sky.

It must float unfastened from the air.
The round table seats eight who came down
from the boat with camels. Why not just sky?
There are no birds. Only cockroaches. Chickens.
The last table. The last sky.

Lake Echo, Dear
Lake Echo, Dear
By C. D. Wright b. 1949
Is the woman in the pool of light
really reading or just staring
at what is written

Is the man walking in the soft rain
naked or is it the rain
that makes his shirt transparent

The boy in the iron cot
is he asleep or still
fingering the springs underneath

Did you honestly believe
three lives could be complete

The bottle of green liquid
on the sill is it real

The bottle on the peeling sill
is it filled with green

Or is the liquid an illusion
of fullness

How summer’s children turn
into fish and rain softens men

How the elements of summer
nights bid us to get down with each other
on the unplaned floor

And this feels painfully beautiful
whether or not
it will change the world one drop

Published in: on November 8, 2013 at 4:35 pm  Leave a Comment  

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