Looking Back
A compilation of your favorite letters from the past year
Just a reminder that I’m offering an end-of-year discount on all new paid subscriptions. This promo will run through January 7th, and if you subscribe during that time, your entire first year will be 25% off.
It’s the end of the year, and right now, most people are lounging and reveling in this time of liminality. As we all know, new creation doesn’t come until after the first. In that spirit, today’s letter is a compilation of your favorite posts from this past year.
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From Without
Sometimes poetry comes from within, and sometimes it comes from without. Here are a couple of poems inspired by things I’ve seen lately.
June Considerations
Summer is here. It’s been lurking, but it’s now official. Summer’s as good a time as any to pause and take stock. It’s too hot to do much of anything else anyway. At least the rains have finally arrived. They wash away the scaly skin of drought, cracking open the crust of effort and letting satisfaction bleed through. Slake your thirst, and let the excess overflow.
Sad Poets Society № 15
Welcome to this month’s meeting of the Sad Poets Society. Today, we’ll be discussing “Sheltered Garden” by H.D. Let’s get into it.
Sad Poets Society № 12
Welcome to this month’s meeting of the Sad Poets Society. Today, we’ll be discussing “Moon Ghazal” by Dorianne Laux. Let’s get into it.
Memory Trains
The neighborhood I grew up in sat near a railroad. There was no wrong side of the tracks. There was only a childhood desire to balance on the rails and to hop from one wooden beam to the next. Walking home from school as a kid, the tracks acted like a yellow brick road of sorts. Just follow the iron and wood, and you’ll get home eventually.
August Considerations
Storms crackle through the air, charged with summer and the entwining of earth and sky. The atmosphere cries out. My soul cries out. Black clouds turn the day into premature night, but lightning lights up the dark. All things are rent and joined in equal measure. Endings and beginnings trip over one another, and all we’re left with is life.
Dream Whispers
I dreamt of dead fish again. This happens sometimes, typically when I’m stressed. I’ll be traipsing along in a dream, not a care in the world, when I’m suddenly confronted with a tank of dead and dying fish. They die in different ways, but it’s always devastating and unexpected. It’s been a recurring dream for some time now, and I don’t think I’ll shake it anytime soon.
Sad Poets Society № 14
Welcome to this month’s meeting of the Sad Poets Society. Today, we’ll be discussing “The Mower” by Philip Larkin. Let’s get into it.
Scarification
A sheltered self is like a seed
that cannot breathe, lying dormant
beneath the earth, warm and safe. But
this refuge is an illusion, a will-o'-the-wisp
that does not exist. Unscathed, we remain
alone.
Summer Evening
It’s summer, and it’s raining a lot. It’s so beautiful when the sun sets on a freshly hydrated world, and I had to write about it. I started this as a regular post, but the more I wrote, the more the words wanted to become a poem. Here’s what emerged.
Two Storms
Emerging from your house the morning after a hurricane is like stepping into an alternate universe. The world is almost the same. The sky is blue and the sun is shining. Birds and squirrels chirp and chitter. A soft breeze blows. But so much else is wrong.
The Woodpecker
A flash of black and white
tinged with fire flies
through the air. It stops,
perching on the underside
of the screen enclosing my lanai.
In stillness, it becomes
a red-bellied woodpecker.
