Bio Note: My new book, Panic Season, looks back; these poems look forward. I'll be reading from both new and older work at Art-Lit-Lab in Madison in their Watershed series 7 pm March 18 with Matt Guenette and Megan Kim--hope to see some of you there!
just for today I won't worry, though my heart hurts for those who must-- because pollution on Planet Earth shields us from space storms, the scientists are winning the booster race for vaccines against various pandemics and law and order have a sometime majority against media-fueled crowds and ways to reduce our carbon budget include turning down our new thermostats and our new garage-door opener works and our local neighbors are friendly folk and saunas are a cure, the lecturer says, for depression, and vegetables will extend our life spans and music will make every creature happy, including my plants, so tomorrow I plan to walk a few miles with bird-watching friends, paint, or write, read a little, talk a little, listen to Will's accordion.
—for my sister poets We are the poets--tribe, band, wanderers following Pegasus's hoofprints through tall grass prairie, mud and sand, up screed mountain slopes, down avalanche alleys, through ice and fire, love and after, dream and disaster, diggers inscribing yellow pads with images stolen from air, a voice on the wind, each voice distinct, listening together for the true music testing again its wings.
©2023 Robin Chapman
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