A New Poem in the Atlanta Review, Trying to Say Something about America Right Now, and a Grey End of May

Hummingbird and fuchsia flower

A New Grim Poem in The Atlanta Review

First, before we talk about grimmer subject matter, many thanks to The Atlanta Review for taking my poem, “Grimoire,” for their beautiful spring 2020 issue (which I share with my friend Ronda Broatch.)

Here’s a picture of Sylvia with the new issue, and a sneak peek at my poem “Grimoire.” (Click on the poem to enlarge for easier reading.)

Towhee protected by spiking branches

Trying to Say Something About America Right Now

Poetry is good, but sometimes it’s not enough. Now, besides the pandemic that has killed 100,000 people with no signs of stopping, we have a growing unrest resulting from the police murder of several African Americans. America, now is the time to do better. To demand better from those in charge and those who wear a uniform.

I grieve for an America that allows men in certain uniforms to murder other unarmed, helpless men and women because of the color of their skin. We need to demand reform and we need to vote out those who are gleeful in their hate (yes, this President, but others, too, and anyone who makes excuses for murder.) We need to ask questions about why white men who spit on service workers and threaten them with guns for wearing masks are called “protesters” while African Americans who speak out about the murder of their people are called “thugs.” We need to ask if the police are actually “Protecting and serving” anyone but themselves, and if not, why has that been allowed and how will we fix it?

Why is it still acceptable to publicly espouse hate?

Orange roses, late May, Woodinville

A Grey End to May

Today has been a grey, rainy day. Seattle is not only under coronavirus-related lockdown but roads have been shut down and a 5 PM curfew has been announced. Trains and ferries have been stopped. The news is full of ugly images.

This morning I attended a two hour online master class from A Public Space on editing creative-non-fiction and fiction. As you probably know if you’re here, I’m mainly a poet, but I occasionally experiment with other forms, and I’d never rule out a short story or a memoir someday, so it’s good to learn about the tools. Check out A Public Space which is also offering free online book clubs.

I then fell asleep for two hours. Zoom still wears me out. I’m not sure if this is an MS thing or what. Does this happen to you guys, or is because of my damaged neurology? Or could it be the massive unrest across the country, the accumulated anxiety of months of lockdown coming to an uneasy end, that makes it hard to have energy for appreciating the good things, like this towhee and orange roses?

I will leave you with an image from an earlier, sunnier day in my neighborhood, with the pale outline of Mount Rainier in the background. Wishing you health and safety, wishing our country justice.