Sunday, May 8, 2016

Definition: Writing

Descanso Garden - Path of Shadows by Maja Trochimczyk

Have you ever had the feeling that you've done what you were supposed to do in life and everything else is a bonus, a desert of sorts? After publishing some of my most intimate and autobiographical poems in the last few years, I do feel that way.

I've left the proof of my existence - on paper, and online - in a portrait of what I really think and who I think I am. It was such a welcome relief from the heavy-duty writing of musicology where I had to dig into other people's lives and thoughts, and play a guessing game about what they were about. Or, worse, as many musicologists do, impose my own theories and ideas onto my subjects, quote the most fashionable experts of the moment, and strive to make myself famous at the expense of those I wrote about.  I'm glad I don't have to anything, any more. . . So, in a way, I'm done, no reason to continue.

But wait, there's so much more! Having finished the egocentric trip of describing myself, I still have the whole world to write about, and there's plenty to do! Here's my poem about poetry writing, published last year by Apryl Skiles in her Edgar Allan Poet blog and her guest piece for another journal.

Descanso Garden - Fountain of Light by Maja Trochimczyk

Definition: Writing 

               in response to George Jisho Robertson’s essay “Path of Poesis”

It is not like splitting the match in four
or counting devils on its round head –
none of this matters, really

see the sunrise above Strawberry Peak
and Mount Disappointment shimmer
on the puffy underbelly of summer clouds

be dazed by bright ripples on a shallow canyon stream
shining like scales of a carp waiting to be killed
in a bathtub before Polish Easter

listen to the roosting birds at dusk,
the murder of crows covering tree branches
with angular shapes, dense Xenakis chords,

black clusters, dissonant, intense. They bathe
in the river, sit on a concrete bank with wet wings
outstretched, drooping with water, docile

like tattooed crowds resting, sweating
on sandy beach towels in Santa Monica,
waiting for a tsunami that will not come

shifting the gaze is important, from the navel
to cosmos – not how we fail in a multitude of ways,
but what graces hide in galaxies

that collide amidsts exploding supernovas,
on thousands of inhabitable planets
we’ll count but never touch –

we’ll touch but never count
the veins on the petals of the rose
shriveling from desert heat, just opened

Not us, then, look around, beyond,
catch what’s already gone, hold it
in your hand – the spark, the passing

(c) 2010 by Maja Trochimczyk

Petal and Raindrops in Blush by Maja Trochimczyk

 Let's focus on what's really far away - all these galaxies and clouds of interstellar dust - and on what's really close and often overlooked - the treasures found on daily walks. The spark of joy seen in someone's eyes. Apryl Skies just made this poem her "Poem of the Day" for April 18, 2013!  She previously published it on her blog, at Edgar Allan Poet: For the National Poetry Month last year, I also wrote an article that she published with the poem. How sweet!"

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