Welcome to the 105th Virtual Poetry Circle!
Remember, this is just for fun and is not meant to be stressful.
Keep in mind what Molly Peacock’s books suggested. Look at a line, a stanza, sentences, and images; describe what you like or don’t like; and offer an opinion. If you missed my review of her book, check it out here.
Also, sign up for the 2011 Fearless Poetry Reading Challenge because its simple; you only need to read 1 book of poetry. Please contribute to the growing list of 2011 Indie Lit Award Poetry Suggestions, visit the stops on the National Poetry Month Blog Tour from April.
Today’s poem is from Michael Dickman’s Flies on page 21-3.
Emily Dickinson to the Rescue
Standing in her house today all I could think of was whether she
took a shit every morning.or ever fucked anybody
or ever fucked
herselfGod’s poet
singing herself to sleepYou want these sorts of things for people
Bodies and
the earth
andthe earth inside
Instead of white
nightgowns and terrifying
letters*
Here she comes
her hands out in front of her
like a child flying
above its bedHer ankles and wrists held tightly between the fingers of a brightly
lit parent home from a partyFlying
Her spine
flyingSinging
“Here I come!”Her legs pumping
her heart
out*
Heaven is everywhere
but there’s still
the worldThe world is Cancer House Fires and Brain Death here in America
But I love the world
Emily Dickinson
to the rescueI used to think we were bread
gentle work and water
We’re notBut we’re still beautiful
Killing each other as much as we can
beneath the
pinesThe pines
that are somebody’s
masterpiece
Let me know your thoughts, ideas, feelings, impressions. Let’s have a great discussion…pick a line, pick an image, pick a sentence.
I’ve you missed the other Virtual Poetry Circles. It’s never too late to join the discussion.