NOV. 15, 2011

2011-11-17T18:16:00.001-08:00

Prompt 1: How To Be a Poet (to remind myself) by Wendell Berry

NIKKI NORDSTROM

You must depend upon affection, reading, knowledge, skill--more of each than you have-- inspiration, work, growing older, patience, for patience joins time to eternity. -Wendell Berry

A poet, according toWendell, is defined by the rhythm of her days, as well as the rhythm of herwords. The content of her words is determined by thecontent of her attention.

I am relieved that Wendell Berry's choice for the firstingredient of the poetic process is affection, which legitimizes my presence at thistable. I am grateful to hear that even for Wendell Berry more reading, knowledge and skill, than even he possesses, are necessary. Over the years my allegiance has shifted from priests to poets; they reach more deeply, hear more clearly.

Prompt 2: A Poet's Heart

KAREN BAKER

Tonight we talked about confidentiality. Then someone said something about a poet's heart. We free associated around the words "poet's heart." Then we wrote:

To Have a Poet's heart

Tohave a poet's heart is to console but not to fix.

Topolish the imperfect doorway then to walk though the

imperfectdoor way. To put our feet into the endless river.

toask questions and to ask them again.

Todistill life down to a few crystal sentences and know

theyare not enough but that they are just right.

Toreconcile harmonies and make them new

to make parts of a whole

tobring the end back to the beginning and to

siton a park bench and know when enough if enough.

- Karen Baker

Nov 1, 2011

2011-11-07T21:38:00.000-08:00

Karen Baker
If we lived forever we could go on and on sitting aroundthis table making meaning out of wordsand each other. It is the memories likesmoke that we try to capture. We rollthe words around in our hands like precious stones. This is why we write: this is how we gleanthe value of our lives.

I remember hotter than hot Minnesota summer days, rolling my eyes and standing on the sides of my feet thinking of ways to get away from the old ones. The ones who said “Sit up straight, put your feet on the floor, don’t talk back. I was not around when these rules were made but now I sit up straight, put my feet on the floor and I try not to talk back.

I keep the precious stones in my pocket and try to remember, to piece back together the people and the stories and the meanings. If we lived forever how then could we value our lives and each other.

Poeming the Silence

NOV. 15, 2011

Nov 1, 2011