Post Election

I am sharing a poem today from my upcoming collection The Lure of Impermanence (Cirque Press).  I wrote this shortly after the recent presidential election.  It seems that the number of corpses on frosted asphalt  has only grown larger in this increasingly unkind and immoral political atmosphere many of us Americans find ourselves in.   May we all join together and be the song we need to hear.

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Yours in poetry,

Carey

Reading at Taborspace

I am honored to have been invited to read at this event hosted by Nancy Woods, who I first met through Cirque Journal readings in Portland.  She is the author of “Hooked on Antifreeze” and has a great sense of humor.   I will be reading my poetry, and while most of my poems are not as funny as Nancy’s stories, it should be a good time with good people in a great venue.  If you are out and about in Portland, stop on by.

Poster for June 21 2018 reading

Yours in poetry,

Carey

Ars Poetica-2018

Last Saturday I was honored to read my poem “Blessing” at Ars Poetica – Where Poetry Meets Art at the Front Street Gallery in Poulsbo, Washington.  I had the pleasure to meet Artist Sylvia Carlton, who shared with the audience why my poem resonated with her and why she chose it. I was so moved that it touched her in such a personal manner.  Sylvia shared how as a mother the poem put into words so much of what she also felt about that difficult time when we let go of our children and send them into the world.   Sylvia captured beautifully the contrast between the tight formality at the beginning of the poem with a dark weaving of limbs and the openness at the end of the poem where the white space and lack of formal punctuation allows the light to come in—light that beautifully emerges from behind the trees.

This poem was originally published in a zine out of Ireland called “Dodging the Rain” and will be included in my forthcoming book called “The Lure of Impermanence” which is scheduled for publication in early summer by Cirque Press in Anchorage, Alaska.

Here is a picture of Sylvia’s lovely painting.

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Yours in poetry,

Carey

 

 

 

 

 

All That Water

It has been awhile since I have written a blog post.  I signed up to blog once a week at the beginning of the year, and have failed miserably to meet my goal.

So, what have I been doing these past three months?  Well, I attended a ten-week poetry workshop, wrote poems, researched writing programs, read twelve books, travelled to Nashville, and sold my house.  And, as if that were not enough, two weeks ago, as I was packing up my kitchen I was notified that Cirque Press out of Anchorage, Alaska is ready to move forward with publication of my first book of poems, which caused me to dance around my empty home in absolute delight.

Endings and beginnings seem to be a constant theme in my life.  Since I was a child, I have moved every few years.  Even as a young girl I remember the allure a new place had on me.  In equal measure, I also had feelings of homesickness connected with leaving, which left me feeling conflicted.

I still love new adventures, and by nature I am a flexible and curious person who is not afraid to try something new.  But I also know, with each new adventure and opportunity my heart gets broken a bit each time, because I am always open to attach myself to the people I meet or the landscape I walk on, and by caring for both, I allow myself to experience what can be the beautiful paradox of heartbreak.

At the end of this week, I head to California for a few weeks of reflection, then back to the Pacific Northwest to begin the search for another home.  I have already begun scouting out a new writing community in the Portland area, but I have no intent to leave the community I have made here. The roads that take us to each other will just be different and not even necessarily longer, especially when you factor in bridges and ferry rides!

As I have been reflecting about what I will gain in this move, and what I will miss, I wrote the following poem.  As Dorothy told the Scarecrow in The Wizard of Oz, “I think I’ll miss you most of all.”

 

 

At Her Last Poetry Class

 

when they ask her

what she will miss most

 

she answers

 

all        that                 water

 

 

boom of surf at Bastendorff Beach

field of whitecaps on the Coos Bay Bar

seasick swells of the Pacific

 

brisk current of Rosario Strait

narrow roil of Deception Pass

Light-year twinkle on Admiralty Inlet

 

mirror of Mats Mats bay

foamy wake behind the Bainbridge Ferry

swirl of kelp beds off Burrows Island

 

When they ask her

what she will miss most

 

she answers

 

all        that                 water

 

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Yours in poetry,

Carey