The Poetry Patio

Surfaces

partial poem / work in progress | iphone photo by author

I wish I could float (with the clouds)

not so much with but above
not so much the earth
but my expectations
leaving them below like
unrecognizable neighborhoods
from an airplane window
a float full of nothing
but airy vacancy
light as a unicorn on
the surface of a swimming pool
clouds shining in the reflection
like stolid trees on the façade
of a mountain lake

This poem is in response to a prompt from my friend and fellow poet Kimberly McAfee (who has a new book! here’s a link to it, and to her instagram). She has a whole list of prompts for the month of September.

It fits in with something that Kirsten Miles of Tupelo Press (Kirsten organizes the 30/30 Program and leads the craft talks, etc) posted in our private August 30/30 Facebook page the other day. I don’t know the origin of this meme, so I’m pasting a screen shot of it below with where Kirsten shared it from.

I feel like this popped into my awareness at exactly the right time, because I have been struggling a lot this past week with the usual misery that crops up in me at near-regular intervals. I’m talking about the kind of misery where I look at social media, or a book, and it dawns on me why I get rejection letters. Suddenly it will hit home how far behind I am from where I would (secretly or not) like to be. I feel crushingly less-than. I wallow in my inadequacy and tear myself down. (I realize this is not a good thing to do, but if I can figure out exactly how to break this cycle forever I will let you know.)

Sometimes social media DOES feel like a competition, though. I look at the posts of more “successful” people and have the uncomfortable sensation that I am involved in a wrestling match I didn’t sign up for. Competition makes me unhappy (this is why I quit gymnastics when I was 12), even competition with myself, but at least that kind can feel productive. I know I’ll never catch up to the people with 10k followers and paychecks from their art. More than likely I wouldn’t like it if I was in that boat anyway, but it sure looks inviting from the bank where all the little people like me stand.

But maybe “making it” isn’t the point.

It IS all so subjective.

How do you “make it,” anyway?

Maybe – definitely – I’m right where I’m supposed to be. For now. Or for good.

What matters is the connections.

Sometimes I will share something on my photography website and manage to reach people in a way where I get replies, people saying “yes! I am feeling this way, too!” When that happens, I know it’s good to keep going. One tiny connection with one person, and I know why I keep at it.

Thanks for being here, readers. Let’s not compete, let’s just create.

The Darts of August

photo by author (canon digital, lensbaby burnside 35 lens)

as the archer, you point arrows, fulfilling some sacred oath
elastic and flying, half-transcendental,
seeking mending from thistledown, they bloom brighter than merciless skies
finding the line in the sand while seashells bleach
and the 150 year old banyan tree tells how to withdraw a sword from a backyard stone

This poem is a Cento, made from the work of the other poets that participated in the August 30/30 Project with me for Tupelo Press. A cento is a poem created with lines written by other people. The link on the word “cento” will explain it better!

I was blown away by the work that my fellow writers shared this month. Honestly, it made me feel like I didn’t belong in the project – I was so impressed that I felt ridiculous being among them. Please, if you get a chance, scroll through and read some of their poems

THE AUGUST, 2023 30/30 PROJECT Page 1

Today, Lucie Chou published a cento for the group on the Tupelo Press site. You can read it at the link above, but here is a screenshot of it also:

This is our official cento for the project; she composed it from lines we all selected and sent to her. Because I initially misunderstood the instructions, I wrote my own cento that I sent in, thinking for some weird reason that she was going to make a cento out of our centos. Inception! So I had this piece already ready and I figured I may as well share it with y’all here.

It’s a satisfying relief to have completed the month-long project! It was a good experience, and I would recommend it. The hardest part was the fundraising, but if I – who suffer acutely from imposter syndrome and want to hide instead when it comes to asking people for money – if I can do it, you can too! Tupelo Press graciously provided us with weekly “craft talks” that were like mini workshop sessions, so there’s a lot more to it than you might think.

I’m grateful to Tupelo Press for their choosing to include me in this project, and for their support through the process. I am grateful also to everyone out there who read along, shared my poems, and donated to the fundraiser. THANK YOU!

Buffalo

Caprock Canyon State Park, TX | polaroid photo by author

there’s something sacred about a canyon
how the land gave way to river power
water’s carrying works will never be done

some majesty gets measured by the ton
lips that graze are busy every hour
in their bones they understand the canyon

acknowledging sacredness in action
where rainfall meets land, and time empowers
the water to carve and never be done

geology gathers runnels, functions
godlike to determine weather’s dour
realty, while the sacred canyon

goes on, sheltering the new herded spawn
whose old roaming gave way to manpower
restoration work will never be done

at least someone is trying. wisdom runs
down hill, delicate as prairie flowers
in the sacredness of the canyon
apologize to the land and be done

This is the villanelle version of a prose poem that I published today on Tupelo Press’ website for the 30/30 project. It was a hard decision which one to send them: this, or the prose version. You can read it here:

The August, 2023 30/30 Project

Thank you, readers! Just a couple of days left in August – phew, what a month it’s been!

Smokies, 2

Polaroid photo by author (Great Smoky Mountains National Park)

Illusion hills
smoke signals further vision
blanket memory, summer-warm
consciousness dreaming
a boulder for a pillow
battling angels
to climb ladders
everything leaves a mark
low-rounded, still-sacred
some of those illusions
carry ancient names
some of them carry
the bones of the sky

I love how mountains fade into the distance, how it hardly seems real. This poem is the second one I wrote for the polaroid at the top. The other one, a villanelle, is over on Tupelo Press’ website today.

THE AUGUST, 2023 30/30 PROJECT Page 1

Thank you readers!

Blue Beach

Polaroid photo by author (Nag’s Head, NC – I think!)

the boy does
tricks the woman

stands watching
the sand is

too foot-stepped
to notice the

camera makes
them all

silhouettes watching
the sand

is everywhere
playing tricks

This poem is a companion piece to the one I published on Tupelo Press’ website today for the August 30/30 Project. You can read the other poem (a villanelle) here:

THE AUGUST, 2023 30/30 PROJECT Page 1

Guess who finally got some little books of William Carlos Williams‘ poetry? So, YES: this little poem of mine is a direct response to reading his work, and my attempt to play with words in a similar style. My local library doesn’t have anything by him (either that or it’s always checked out) so I decided I would just add to my own library instead. Any fellow bibliophiles out there?

BOOKS I LOVE BOOKS I LOVE BOOKS

And speaking of books, and poetry: I am THRILLED to announce that, thanks to an artist friend’s donation, I’ve met my fundraising goal! I’m so happy to be able to raise money for the press, and so grateful for my friends’ generosity in helping me! You can still throw in, tho, for as long as the page is active on the website – which means you can still get a copy of the poetry / photography zine I’ll be making once this month is over.

Thank you for being here, readers!

Pinehurst

Golf town
sand and spa
pines and pubs
coddled traditions and legends
around every corner

My Grand-mere
always spoke of azaleas
sparkles in her milky eyes
and soft hands around
a pottery cup of chicory coffee

another time
another place
another south

This poem is a second one that I wrote for the photo, with the villanelle being shared on Tupelo Press’ website for this month’s 30/30 project. It’s been a journey!! I don’t know what’s been harder: writing the poems and submitting them daily, or trying my hand at fundraising. PHEW.

I’m thrilled to report, however, that thanks to the gorgeous generosity of a few friends I am super close to meeting my goal. I’m double excited about this because of the zine I’m going to make donors as a reward; I’ve decided I’m going to include some other pieces that I only have shared so far on Medium, too, since they suit the general theme. Yay for making something in print!

There’s still time to get in on the party if you have $30 you can spare (or less, or more – but $30 will get you the zine!) HERE IS THE LINK TO DONATE.

Pinehurst Village is a beautiful place. I can’t think about golf without thinking about my maternal grandmother, my Grand-mere. She loved the sport! I know azaleas are a Masters thing and that takes places somewhere besides North Carolina, but still: golf = Grand-mere, and Grand-mere loved to see the azaleas on TV during that tournament every year.

Readers, thank you!

Coffin House

Glass-eyed Narcissus hiding
too tall for me to see him
in his past place abiding

The summer days go sliding
a boat upon the pond skims
glass-eyed Narcissus hiding

its deceptive depths, chiding
obsession’s inviting grin
in its sin-seat abiding

What seeking brings is finding
with a cup full to the brim
still spy Narcissus hiding

Hours confidently striding
distances the kith & kin
of past places abiding

A shine of gladder tidings
ringing in a new day’s whims
glass-eyed Narcissus hiding
in his favorite place abiding

This poem is a companion villanelle to the one I published today on Tupelo Press’ website as part of the 30/30 Project. You can read the other poem here:

The August, 2023 30/30 Project

Thank you for reading! I’m over halfway through my month of writing and publishing, so it’s time for me to add another request for you to kindly consider donating to my fundraiser for Tupelo Press. I’m going to produce a new zine, but only for people who donate $30. Want a copy? Here’s where you can donate!

https://tupelopress.networkforgood.com/projects/198636-amy-jasek-s-fundraiser

Pine

Padded quiet morning, here
where life has barely thawed out
the birds wait to raise a cheer

to summer. Sunshine appears
with warmth, flexing its new clout
in the padded morning. Here

and there flying bugs appear
but the earth-dwellers have doubts
and birds wait to sound the cheer.

Chased by needling cold fears
pine doesn’t worry about
much here, soaks up the morning.

Sap slows thoughts, fills lungs. Clear
blue tries to break through the clouds.
The birds start to tweet out cheers.

My heart loves this high frontier,
while my limbs long to thaw out
in the padded quiet here
I join the birds in their cheers.

The truth is that writing a villanelle each day is HARD. Some of the photographs I chose to prompt me aren’t very easy to work from, and keeping myself on task with the form while also trying to break some kind of incredible creative ground JUST DOESN’T HAPPEN every single day. This was the best I could do for this photo, and it was a labor getting it out of myself.

If you look at the Tupelo Press website, I sent in something else for the same photo. It’s a kind of mashup of haikus and tankas used as stanza, which I know some purists will say is all wrong but hey it’s what I chose to do. You can see that poem at the link below; scroll down a little please.

The August, 2023 30/30 Project

Thank you, readers, for being here! Please if you can, consider donating to my fundraiser; I would love to meet my goal but I am a long, long way off. . .

DONATE HERE

Shadows

break it down, where the light
finds the failing fallen,
ignited by shadows

broken patterns alight
within the frame’s swollen
hollows, flushed with light

where geometry’s tight
course follows peaks and glens
waves will find the shadows

in the doorway hope fights
feeling sorrow taken
past breaking down. The light

will flush away the blight
burning away bracken
igniting the shadows

til the fire’s hot might
shoulders its calling
kindling where the light
extinguishes shadows

Again today I am sharing a villanelle with you, as part of my project to write 30 villanelles during my time in the 30/30 project for Tupelo Press. Again, I decided to deviate in terms of what I sent to the “official” project website, so y’all get the villanelle here!

Thank you readers!

Cimmaron

End of the mountains, the end of the line.
Dad used to say “the dead center of town.”
The old bones resting here have done their time.

Now they gaze out at the prairie, the fine
endless grasses wave back. A man could drown
in those mountains. He has to hold the line

until it breaks, then hold on longer. Twine
is good but faith is stronger. Dad’s short brown
hair gone white rests on his old head. His time

passes now in a chair, while movies shine
in his eyes. His ears swallow up loud sounds
like mountains. He still wants to tow the line

but his body refuses. There are times
in my dreams where his health has turned around
but the bones in his skin rest. There are signs

of love and hope in him still. The reclined
dead in this town smile from the earth, laid down
where the mountains rest. At the end of time
all the old bones here will jump into line.

This poem is part of my 30 Villanelles in 30 Days project that I’m doing for Tupelo Press‘ 30/30 Project. However, worrying that maybe readers there might be annoyed by the consistency of form, I decided to switch things up a bit. What’s on the Tupelo Press website for the photo you see at the top is a different form (a poem made up of 3 Shadorma stanzas plus a tag stanza), and I’m sharing the villanelle right here.

Please head over and read the other poem I wrote – plus of course check out the work of the incredible poets who are writing with me this month! If you decide to donate to the level that you’ll get a copy of the zine I’m going to make, maybe I’ll throw in all the poems and not just the Villanelles. Whatcha think?

The August, 2023 30/30 Project

Thank you, readers! I appreciate every one of you!