Closing Time

Residency Diary, Days 5 and 6 - That's a wrap

Yesterday I got a second wind, and I used the day to complete the type of work that takes forever and that I put off at home: finishing two blurbs I had promised to write for other writers, preparing and sending submissions, and creating some promotional materials for our new journal Asterales that will launch in January. I sent some emails to start booking readings for next fall when Unrivered is released, and already have one set. I worked all day, the sun warm on the quiet porch, in the company of tiny green and brown lizards whose energy and movement helped me to keep moving forward. (I did take a long walk break in the morning to visit the local library’s book sale and the farmer’s market. Being overzealous with the exercise earlier this week and sleeping in an unfamiliar bed have my back in a shambles, so walking and stretching every day since Thursday have been the correct choices.)

Later in the evening, fellow resident Pamela Tucker and I took a walk to a cocktail bar she wanted to visit for dinner and over beautiful drinks (boulevardiers for her and hibiscus tea for me) and a flatbread, we talked about art and poems. She sketched and I wrote, and we had a lovely relaxing time in the dark narrow cocoon of a setting that made us think we’d been there all night when we emerged to walk home at 7:30 PM. It was a lovely way to spend the early evening.

Today has been quieter, and I’ve given myself permission to slow down a bit in anticipation of leaving this place tomorrow. I did some more submissions this morning, a little website work for Asterales. I spent some time thinking about my dad, whose 90th birthday would have been today. I think about him a lot, but birthdays are always hard for me. If I was home, I’d probably have headed to the cemetery and had a little chat with him. Instead I did it on my walk—inside my head, don’t worry—and felt him with me.

Thinking about him on the last day of this time away from home led me to think about endings in general—how the ending that comes from loss is never-ending, how the ending of a trip is sometimes both a disappointment and a joy in returning home, how the ending of a poem needs to leave the reader satisified but resonate beyond a “summary” or a “gotcha” line. Right now, I’m on an accountability Google Meet with two writer friends, and my goal was to write one more poem this afternoon. I started one. It was utter trash. So instead I’m here, ruminating on this particular ending and what it means.

First, a list of countable things that have been accomplished in the last six days:

• New poems drafted: 22

• Number of them that are decent or viable: Questionable- we shall see

• Number of poetry submissions prepared and sent: Eleven

• Number of art submissions prepared and sent: Two

• Number of older poems revised: at least 20

• Number of new forms created: 1 (see post from a few days ago)

• Number of book re-read and re-read to take notes for blurbs: Two

• Number of blurbs completed: Two

• Number of lovely meals with all the other residents and our hosts: 3 (will be four after tonight’s farewell meal)

• Number of excellent conversations about art, both writing and poetry: Too many to count

• Number of times I have cried: Two (once when fellow resident artist Freda Shapiro read my draft of Unrivered and everything she said about it let me know the book is working the way I want it to work, and once this morning while looking through pictures of my dad. )

No wonder I feel and look like a wrung-out sponge. But, I’m heading home with more writing and more submissions than I’ve had in months. I’m also heading home with lots of ideas for new pieces of art to work on after spending so much time with visual artists this week, which is probably good since I’m sick of words right now. (I keep hearing the song WAR in my head, except as “WORDS…huh…good God, y’all…what are they good for?”)

So I’m gathering up my jacket (or I would if I hadn’t lost it at the airport), moving toward the exit, and I know that I’ve made new friends.Tomorrow will be a long travel day - Lyfts and layovers and lousy airport light- but I’m grateful to have had this time to do the thing I love. I’m even more grateful to return to the person I love, the home I love, my friends, and my very own bed.