Last weekend, for some reason a pocket of time opened up and I finished my draft of my next book, There's a Ghost in this Machine of Air. The manuscript is most likely not as done as I think it is, but the fact that it is written and organized in a manner I think is working right now is a huge reason to celebrate (in my opinion). This does mean that I won't be writing more poems about the Laguna de Santa Rosa (for the time being!) Moving on from a project of that magnitude is always difficult for me. Since I am a poet who is project driven, being project-less, or not focused on completing a project makes it hard for me to write. Here is my attempt to move on this week. We were asked to write a poem where we talk about why we are dissatisfied with what we've got. Here's my attempt at a draft:
Thankful for the gates we pass under:
braided galaxies of swallows
netted against grey combed skies.
This time of year earth’s desire—
lace of steam that rises to meet
dawn’s chorus is nothing to be netted.
What shadows have escaped our watch in the night?
The last remaining green grasses bent by dew.
Light warming, slowly; letting that weight go.