Random Book from my Book Shelf, or Books are My Memories …   In honor of Poetry Saturday I pulled one of my favorite poetry books off the shelf. I had the honor of taking a writing workshop with Lucie Brock-Broido 26 years ago. I remember that summer like it was yesterday: Boston, a series of dusks, the second floor of an university brownstone, a small clanky window unit air conditioner, a small group of eager young poets, and Lucie–no words really to describe her fully. Doe-like eyes, hair past her waist, extraordinary insight, and poems that begged to be read out loud–delicious morsels in my mouth, worlds beyond my imagination but still grounded in the domestic details of our daily lives. As in this excerpt from her poem, “Domestic Mysticism:”  “In thrice 10,000 seasons, I will come back to this world/In a white cotton dress. Kingdom of After My Own Heart./Kingdom of Fragile. Kingdom of Dwarves. When I come home,/Teacups will quiver in their Dresden saucers, pentatonic chimes/Will move in wind. A covey of alley cats will swarm on the side/Porch & perch there, portents with quickened heartbeats/You will feel against your ankles as you pass through…”

Random Book from my Book Shelf, or Books are My Memories …

In honor of Poetry Saturday I pulled one of my favorite poetry books off the shelf. I had the honor of taking a writing workshop with Lucie Brock-Broido 26 years ago. I remember that summer like it was yesterday: Boston, a series of dusks, the second floor of an university brownstone, a small clanky window unit air conditioner, a small group of eager young poets, and Lucie–no words really to describe her fully. Doe-like eyes, hair past her waist, extraordinary insight, and poems that begged to be read out loud–delicious morsels in my mouth, worlds beyond my imagination but still grounded in the domestic details of our daily lives. As in this excerpt from her poem, “Domestic Mysticism:”

“In thrice 10,000 seasons, I will come back to this world/In a white cotton dress. Kingdom of After My Own Heart./Kingdom of Fragile. Kingdom of Dwarves. When I come home,/Teacups will quiver in their Dresden saucers, pentatonic chimes/Will move in wind. A covey of alley cats will swarm on the side/Porch & perch there, portents with quickened heartbeats/You will feel against your ankles as you pass through…”