A Prayer for the New Year

Photo by Matthew Smith on Unsplash

Mysteries, Yes
by Mary Oliver

Truly, we live with mysteries too marvelous
to be understood.

How grass can be nourishing in the
mouths of the lambs.
How rivers and stones are forever
in allegiance with gravity
while we ourselves dream of rising.
How two hands touch and the bonds
will never be broken.
How people come, from delight or the
scars of damage,
to the comfort of a poem.

Let me keep my distance, always, from those
who think they have the answers.

Let me keep company always with those who say
"Look!" and laugh in astonishment,
and bow their heads.

Ten Years Later

photo: Dan Whale via Unsplash

The first-ever Thing Written Down appeared on this blog ten years ago today.

Yeah, I know.

The intervening decade feels more like a lifetime. The world is changed.

I am changed, too. Very little of my life now resembles my life then. But I'm still writing things down, and I'm still glad you're here.

Two Recent Features

detail from Renoir's Luncheon of the Boating Party

Thanks very much to Maudlin House for including me as a featured writer this month. 

Thanks, too, to the Phillips Collection, for highlighting my poem on The Luncheon of the Boating Party.

I wish the poem's themes of gaslighting and harassment were less relevant right now. But they're not, and so I'll add my voice to the chorus:

me too.

Interlude: Other People's Poetry

Image: NASA/JPL-Caltech

Telescope

by Louise Glück

There is a moment after you move your eye away
when you forget where you are
because you are living, it seems,
somewhere else, in the silence of the night sky.

You've stopped being here in the world.
You're in a different place,
a place where human life has no meaning.

You're not a creature in a body.
You exist as the stars exist,
participating in their stillness, their immensity.

Then you're in the world again.
At night, on a cold hill,
taking the telescope apart.

You realize afterward
not that the image is false
but the relation is false.

You see again how far away
every thing is from every other thing.

Another Bird Poem, If You Can Believe That

I'm honored to be a part of Monstering magazine's inaugural issue.

You can read my poem "Ketoconazole" here. It even comes with its own soundtrack.

Performance of a Lifetime

Dr. Moran tapped his heavy silver pen against a sheaf of test results. “Well,” he said, “I’ve found the problem.”

I’d arrived enervated in his office a few weeks ago, drifting through the door in a fog of weakness and fatigue. Headaches hammered me all day. I was 23 years old and my bones ached. I couldn’t feel my feet. My guts felt oily and torqued. Once a month or so I slipped into a hot, dizzy spell that made the floor slant and my eyes blur. None of this was new.

Want to read the rest? Click here or, better yet, go to your local bookstore and buy the summer issue of Bitch magazine.

Buy a few copies, actually. It's good.

One Poem in Qu

"Luncheon of the Boating Party" by Pierre-Auguste Renoir

I went on some pretty bad dates last year. The worst one turned into a poem.

(I recommend taking a very close look at the action in the upper-right corner of the Renoir above.)

"Blind Date, Phillips Collection" is out now in Qu Literary Magazine. 

Goodbye, James.

"Jellyfish on a Stick," by James C. Christensen

James C. Christensen (1942 - 2017) was an exuberant collaborator, a generous teacher, and a friend. The world is a stranger and more beautiful place because he was in it.