May 2016
John L. Stanizzi
jnc4251@aol.com
jnc4251@aol.com
Well, it has been slow going since the Tupelo 30/30 Challenge in January. In fact, I have not completed one poem since January 30. But I am old enough now to know that one does not fret (too much) over such dry spells. When I was a young man, two days without a poem was "writer's block." These days, I don't worry too much about two months....and if I'm not mistaken, I'm pretty sure I feel something beginning to percolate right now. The two pieces in this issue are from the 30/30, and I am very happy and proud to be appearing in V-V once again. Many thanks, Fire.
Listen
for Cathy O’Reilly
On a clear, warm day
this past summer, my friend Cathy
handed me a prize
she’d taken from the surf.
It was a vertebra,
from a fish I imagine,
about the size of the top of my thumb,
and so smooth,
so rounded by the sea,
that it actually felt soft.
I was holding it this morning,
rubbing the tips of my fingers
all over its smoothness,
when I noticed that if I held it
so that I could look through
the hole in its middle
it looked just like a magnificent ear,
and I thought that this one small piece
of something larger and much more complex,
now rests on dry land,
a separate entity,
a curio given by the ocean to Cathy
and by Cathy to me,
so that now when I’m alone in this room
I will no longer worry
that when I speak into the nothingness
of my frustration
my words will go unheard.
Fire Flies
…I will hatch. I am not yet fully formed
and ready, but these cracks no longer scare me.
-Laura M. Kaminski
This is not a camp fire
it’s a beacon
Not a warning
but a signal —
I can live here too
even if you don’t believe me.
*
Sparks from the fire fly
into blackness
ascend
toward the moon
That’s not going to happen
Lots of things aren’t
*
It was our peculiar
light
that drew us together
cold light
but so what
We even glowed when we were young
*
The kindling crackles
briefly
The fire blazes a momentary warmth
which I welcome
It’s so earnest
compared to none
*
I will never see why you can’t understand
this is nothing
compared to other things
and I have someone
to touch my eyes
trace my lips
so I’ll live
for a while
which reminds me
We’re only here
a few seconds
Why eat each other?
How quick—
the fire flies
for Cathy O’Reilly
On a clear, warm day
this past summer, my friend Cathy
handed me a prize
she’d taken from the surf.
It was a vertebra,
from a fish I imagine,
about the size of the top of my thumb,
and so smooth,
so rounded by the sea,
that it actually felt soft.
I was holding it this morning,
rubbing the tips of my fingers
all over its smoothness,
when I noticed that if I held it
so that I could look through
the hole in its middle
it looked just like a magnificent ear,
and I thought that this one small piece
of something larger and much more complex,
now rests on dry land,
a separate entity,
a curio given by the ocean to Cathy
and by Cathy to me,
so that now when I’m alone in this room
I will no longer worry
that when I speak into the nothingness
of my frustration
my words will go unheard.
Fire Flies
…I will hatch. I am not yet fully formed
and ready, but these cracks no longer scare me.
-Laura M. Kaminski
This is not a camp fire
it’s a beacon
Not a warning
but a signal —
I can live here too
even if you don’t believe me.
*
Sparks from the fire fly
into blackness
ascend
toward the moon
That’s not going to happen
Lots of things aren’t
*
It was our peculiar
light
that drew us together
cold light
but so what
We even glowed when we were young
*
The kindling crackles
briefly
The fire blazes a momentary warmth
which I welcome
It’s so earnest
compared to none
*
I will never see why you can’t understand
this is nothing
compared to other things
and I have someone
to touch my eyes
trace my lips
so I’ll live
for a while
which reminds me
We’re only here
a few seconds
Why eat each other?
How quick—
the fire flies
©2016 John L. Stanizzi