Work & "Marriage Song"

Work was tiring today. I didn’t have my usual patience for the common misconceptions people have about pharmacy– the biggest one being: pharmacy staffs should give people refills even if a prescription is expired or out of refills. God forbid if your pharmacy staff politely points out that you’ve had a whole a month to contact your doctor for refills, which would be more efficient than waiting until the day you need the medication to ask you pharmacy staff to contact the doctor and yell at the staff because your doctor didn’t respond within your time line.

Ok. Enough of that and more of Beth Gylys, the Poet of the Month for May.

MARRIAGE SONG

Some have affairs. They never stop to think
until they’re begging for a second chance.
(We love and learn we sometimes need a drink.)

Impatient with his life, he quipped, “We blink,
we’re forty: with wives, kids, retirement plans.”
Some have affairs. It isn’t what they think.

He saw this woman at the skating rink,
watching their sons play hockey from the stands.
He fought the urge to ask her for a drink.

She wore those stretchy pants, a long faux mink
slid next to him and said, “Hi, my name’s Nance.”
He wanted her right there. He couldn’t think.

They fucked in hotel rooms, designer pink,
drank cheap champagne. He signed her underpants.
They fucked and ordered something else to drink.

His wife broke all the dishes in the sink,
took both the kids and flew first class to France.
Some have affairs–it’s never what they think.
We sigh and shake our heads. We have a drink.

~Beth Gylys
from BODIES THAT HUM, Silverfish Review Press
Advertisements

Bad News But More Beth Gylys

Today, I received an email from ToasterMag’s editor that he has decided to put ToasterMag on hold. The next issue, the Pride issue, will be the last. Disappointment. I’m feeling loads of disappointment. As I read his lengthy email I understand why he doing what he is doing, and it isn’t the end– just the end of a monthly ezine. At some point there will be something down the road, but I can’t really find comfort in that. I’ve been working hard on developing the creative writing portion of ToasterMag. My latest project was starting an annual contest for ToasterMag— it was all set to happen, and the talented and freaking awesome poet, Laure-Anne Bosselaar, was going to be the judge. The editor offered to make special provisions for the contest to still happen because he knows how much of my heart I had already poured in, but I don’t think I’ll take him up on it—– it wouldn’t be the same. Oh well, time to find a different way to burn some of my energy.

Now some happiness…..

AFTERWARDS

Your desktop PC is well-equipped to handle
every disaster from spilled coffee to a power surge,
which is only one reason I don’t understand
how you can just stand there,
puzzling at the toes of your Reeboks,
as if you might think of an apology for yourself
or your lack of courteous love-making practices,
such as kissing me on the neck,
for instance, or taking off your tube socks,
which, after all, usually have holes, and anyway,
you told me you didn’t believe in all that shit
about mutuality of marriage, so at least you could stop
curling your lip like a frazzled Doberman
and fuck like you want to fuck
or leave like you’re never coming back.

~ Beth Gylys
from BODIES THAT HUM, Silverfish Review Press

Beth Gylys ~ "Hands Full of Nothing"

I promised two Gylys poems a day, so here it is:

HANDS FULL OF NOTHING

The hotel lobby, a one-legged man
flops down next to me. I’m so tired
I could curl beside the fountain,
Cupid in its center, vomiting green water.
You were just on the phone, saying,
I’d like to kneel down in front of you,
my tongue between your. . . If I were there,
you wouldn’t even take me out
to get a sandwich. The one-legged man
makes his living playing bass. His laugh
sounds like a horse. I close my eyes.
I’d like to . . . If I were there, you wouldn’t even
meet me for a drink. Why do I call?
Here by nine, I drove through the night,
sunroof open, the sky a pincushion of stars.
To stay awake, I kept reaching up my hand
to grab, one more time, a fistful of wind.

~ Beth Gylys
Spot in the Dark, Ohio State University Press (2004)

ToasterMag, Bud, & Disposing Meds

~ After a bit of work on the topic, I can now announce that ToasterMag will have its first poetry contest this year! Want to know the contest name? Want to the know the name of the judge? Well, I will say the name has roots in poetry, and the judge is a very distinguished poet. If you want more than that you’ll have to check out ToasterMag in mid June.

~ Today, Paul and I went for a walk with Daisy. (Daisy will get her own post at a later date explaining her identity.) As we walked in the apartment complex, returning from our walk, a young guy asks, “Do you know where I can buy any bud?” I replied, “At the BP across from the complex,” thinking the guy must have been slow– almost every gas station I’ve been stocks beer. Then the guy looks at me like I’m slow and says, “Some green.” At this point I do feel stupid, well maybe more naive, and Paul quickly responds “We’re not into that sort of thing.” The guy apologized and walked off. I wanted to tag on, “Yeah, we’ve actually never done any illegal drunks or abused prescription drugs, but I can drink like Tammy Faye puts on make-up.” But I doubt he’d be impressed with not liking the drugs… oh well, I guess D.A.R.E. didn’t reached him.

~ A friendly tip from a pharmacy guy: If you ever have to dispose of medication don’t flush it. Not good. Not good at all. Dissolve the tablets in water or another liquid. Poor the dissolved tablets in cat litter, coffee grounds, or some other item from your kitchen. (If you have a liquid medication skip the dissolving part and follow instructions.) Then seal the contents in a bag and drop in the nearest trashcan.

Beth Gylys ~ May POTM

Due to some issues with Microsoft word I have been working on retyping my interview with Marilyn Nelson. The interview is still coming; do not think otherwise!

For the rest of May I am going to share the work of Beth Gylys. To compensate for my lack of posting her poems throughout the month I’m going to post a Gylys poem every morning and evening until May 31.

IF ONLY

If only we were always beginning to love,
my trembling need, your hands warm
pressing my back, my sides, your lips
everywhere changing me. If only I
could it so, I’d hold you in that
pose of open tenderness, something
of your face as once desiring and content
as if what your eyes had strained to find
at last fell on the thing. If only I could
always feel so rightly placed, my body
lovely because you name it so, your fingers
making me willing, supple, graced.

~ Beth Gylys
from Spot in the Dark, Ohio State University Press (2004)

Quotes on Writing Poetry

Collin and Kate both tagged me for a Quote Meme— to find 10 quotes from poets that flow with my thoughts on poetry writing. I guess this is some sort of small landmark in my blogging since this is my first time doing one of these (no wise cracks CK or MM). I added an extra quote for the heck of it.

Images are probably the most important part of the poem. First of all you want to tell a story, but images are what are going to shore it up and get to the heart of the matter.
~ Anne Sexton

You run into people who want to write poetry who don’t want to read anything in the tradition. That’s like wanting to be a builder but not finding out what different kinds of wood you use.
~ Gary Snyder

Any work of art makes one very simple demand on anyone who genuinely wants to get in touch with it. And that is to stop. You’ve got to stop what you’re doing, what you’re thinking, and what you’re expecting and just be there for the poem for however long it take.
~ W.S. Merwin

The title of your poem can accomplish something your poem did not.
~ Beth Gylys

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.”
~ Robert Frost

Poetry is ordinary language raised to the Nth power. Poetry is boned with ideas, nerved and blooded with emotions, all held together by the delicate, tough skin of words.
~ Paul Engle

The joy that isn’t shared dies young.
~ Anne Sexton

Courage is the most important of all the virtues, because without courage you can’t practice any other virtue consistently. You can practice any virtue erratically, but nothing consistently without courage.
~ Maya Angelou

If technique is of no interest to a writer, I doubt that the writer is an artist.
~Marianne Moore

A poetry articulating the dreads and horrors of our time is necessary in order to make readers understand what is happening, really understand it, not just know about it but feel it: and should be accompanied by a willingness on the part of those who write it to take additional action towards stopping the great miseries which they record.
~ Denise Levertov

I tag MM, Robin, & Charlie.