One Poem at Bourgeon

photo: Abby Horowitz

Every family has stories they tell again and again. These stories change each time in the telling, depending on who is telling them, what they happen to remember, the details they select, and what they want you to believe.

In other words, they're a lot like poems.

My version of "Kitchen Fire" is up today at Bourgeon.

Go, Baby, Go

In late 2014 I attended a meeting at the Eunice Kennedy Shriver National Institute of Child Health and Human Development. I was there to take notes, and was dutifully transcribing the speaker's comments on various programs the Institute had funded. My mind had just begun to wander when I heard her say, "...and robotic cars for babies."

That got my attention. I wrote down everything she said and looked it up as soon as I got home. The robotic cars in question were products of the pediatric physical therapy lab at the University of Delaware. In the time since receiving their grant, I learned, researchers in the lab had gone beyond robotic baby cars. They'd started a movement. 

Just under two years later, I'm very happy to share my story on the GoBabyGo! program, which was published this week on the Popular Mechanics website:

Why Power Wheels Are the Perfect Physical Therapy Tool for Kids

Interlude: Other People's Poetry

The poet last summer at Earl Mosley's Hearts of Men dance program

My siblings are the greatest. They're smart, funny, and kind, and they're constantly making me proud. I wanted to share a poem from my brother Michael, a fellow crafter, baker, and dancer who will be starting high school in the fall. 

At a time when his peers are doing all they can to conform, Michael has remained a beacon of individuality and courage. Here he is talking about his experience with a life-changing summer dance program for men. 

And here's a poem he wrote toward the end of the school year:

Individuality

by Michael Horowitz

Style is in the eye of the beholder? 

All I get is the cold shoulder

You call my shoes insane

Maybe yours are too plain

You call the way I talk abnormal

Maybe you talk way too formal

Because of you I’m afraid to be who I am

Making me think my looks are a scam

What defines me, what defines you?

Is it being false over true?

Looks are deceiving 

And personalities can be misleading

All of your insecurities, are just like your impurities

Trying to cover up who you are, instead of shining like a star

So next time don’t follow the crowd

Try to be a little out loud

Because you have nothing to lose because you choose, how

you view, who can abuse, your muse

Is beauty in the eye of the beholder?

No it’s simply being a bit bolder!

A Zootopia Poem

image: YouTube // Googlemovietrailers

In March, I went to see Zootopia. 

I came home with visions of oil and water dancing behind my eyes. 

I thought about patterns, and the way we consider some dysfunctional behaviors strong or noble while others are viewed as weaknesses. I thought about grasping rabbits and flight-risk foxes I have known. I wrote a poem.

All that is to say:

"sly fox / dumb bunny" is up today at Quail Bell Magazine.