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Another hearty poem inspired by Dorianne Laux's "Heart" in the spirit of this week.  Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash Heart takes long trips across the frigid planes of winter An explorer of underwater planets A trickster bounding one way then doubling back Heart trickles out dewdrops from lilac blossoms An opening, a cave door I see you and melt with a plate of buttered potatoes Squishy heart of dancing Russian soldiers Tiptoeing their way home at 3am Departing the Ukrainian border Sneaking back to bed with their wives With their husbands With friends and strangers And all alone A dream looking out the window Sugar sticks across my lips and brows A blood orange dripping from my hands That tastes like dark chocolate But a little smokey with forest fire My heart on a plane to Belize  Photo by camilo jimenez on Unsplash
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I was reawakened in Erik Ehn's 30 day virtual silent playwriting retreat last July. I'm craving that kind of submersion again, especially of the in-person variety. We did much much much that month, making/reading/writing intentionally TOO much, with big pockets of stillness, silence invited throughout. We created in all disciplines and I often felt back at my MFA Program at CIIS, the first academic environment where I felt at home. Here are a few remnants, scrappy poem cut-ups/blackouts that helped me move forward in my process toward a larger thing.  Oh you green and luscious peat moss, fruit of my hips hair in mouth light in eyes sink my unaligned posture form pressing me down small breeze, nuthatch on elm I'll one day stop making up for lost time and the death of everyone I love I threw up twice from the heat and cookie dough ice cream squeezed my eyes tight into tomorrow into home  A big emptying out rotting cold astroturf we slept in oceans of smoke my upper half went numb What is the color of sun?
A family escaping overloaded raft made of scrap wood, piles House on fire, they lost everything Drifting apart into Pacific A choke pulsed up My heart sparks me in their folds, their kingdom Clouds pressed on through the wind I hope inside you are bright |
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$1, $10, $100, whatevs :) Heidi KraayProcess notes on a work in progress (me). This mostly contains raw rough content pulled out of practice notebooks. Occasional posts also invite you into the way I work, with intermittent notes on the hows and whys on the whats I make. Less often you may also find prompts and processes I've brought to workshops, as well as surveys that help me gather material for projects. Similar earlier posts from years ago can be found on: Archives
April 2024
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