47th ave loop
Deaths from COVID-19: 111 (MN)/ 33,325 (US)
What a beautiful morning! Hardly any wind, lots of sun, uncrowded paths! Ran south right above the river. Pale blue. At one point, heard a woodpecker and thought about stopping to record it but didn’t. Looked longingly at the lone bench near Folwell with the clear, unobstructed view to the other side. Recited my poem of the week, LOVESONG OF THE SQUARE ROOT OF NEGATIVE ONE. I am the wind and the wind is invisible! Thought about the rhythm in the later lines:
As the hammer / 1 2 / ♫♫
is a hammer / 1 2 / ♫♫
when it hits the nail / 1 2 3 4 / ♫♩♩♩
and the nail / 1 2 / ♫ ♩
is a nail / 1 2 / ♫ ♩
when it meets the wood / ♫ ♩♩♩
Running on the road, after turning off of Edmund, I saw my shadow ahead of me. Hi friend! She led me until I turned again. Listened to my feet shuffle on the grit and my ponytail brush against the collar of my vest. Don’t remember hearing any crows or squirrels or geese–did I? Ran too early to see Dave, the Daily Walker. Didn’t see any roller skiers, but did see 1 or 2 bikers. 2 runners, one with a bright red shirt on.
Thought about the poem I’m working on and that I posted yesterday about sinking. I’m thinking of changing goo to jelly. Also, I’m not sure I like starting with think–I did it partly as a rhyme with sink but I’m not sure now. Here’s different version, in a different form. Instead of cinquains, I’m using couplets:
How to Sink/ Sara Lynne Puotinen (draft 2)
with Paul Tran
Try to recall when your son was young and so upset
all he could do was turn to jelly and ooze
down the couch in surrender — not giving in
but giving up control, a puddle of body parts
pooled at your feet. Learn to retreat like this.
Go to the gorge. Let your bones dissolve,
your legs liquefy. Submit to gravity. Slide
down. Reach the ground first, then seep deeper
through layers of loam, sandstone, shale. Drop lower
and lower, burrow through cracks and fissures, carve
out a way in and follow it farther. Go
so far inside that outside is another idea.
I think I like this version better, especially how some lines can stand alone and make interesting poems by themselves. Like, “out a way in and follow it farther” or “but giving up control, a puddle of body parts.”
It’s warmer today. Maybe spring is finally, actually coming?! Soon there will be flowers and green grass and bees. In honor of the bees, here are 2 wonderful poems by Emily Dickinson (found on this twitter thread about bee poems):
To make a prairie (1755)/ Emily Dickinson – 1830-1886
To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee,
One clover, and a bee.
The revery alone will do,
If bees are few.
In the name of the Bee –/ Emily Dickinson
In the name of the Bee –
And of the Butterfly –
And of the Breeze – Amen!