Postcards from the Imagination

Pityriasis Rosea, which is both good and bad news. 

Good news: 1) I don't have Lyme disease, 2) it's not contagious 3) I won't need a long course of antibiotics, 4) I won't suffer any long-term effects, and  5) I've heard the wake-up call loud and clear about playing in the woods unprotected.

Bad news: 1) there is no treatment for PR, as it is suspected to be viral, 2) it may take as long as 3-4 months to run its course, which means living with this horrible body rash for several weeks more, 4) no strenuous activity (like biking) until it clears up, 5) UV rays can help speed healing, but I'm too fair-skinned to take advantage of the sun without burning, 6) I have no idea when the muscle aches, fatigue, and headaches that have accompanied the rash will subside.

Things could be worse, though. Much worse, and I'm thankful they're not.

My plan for this long weekend is to get caught up on reading submissions for The New Hampshire Review. While that might not sound terribly exciting, I relish the task. I've heard writers liken submissions to lottery tickets, and I get something of that feeling myself when I go through our inbox. There's always this sense of anticipation, this sense that something wonderful is waiting to be discovered. If you'll allow me to gush for a moment: I love poetry.  My soul feels at home in it, despite the struggles with my own writing.

Editing has actually helped me move past some of that. As a reader, I've spent an inordinate amount of time absorbing other people's notions of a what makes a poem good. As an editor, I get to see the failures too. And it's those failed attempts which most inspire me right now--because they're a constant reminder that none of us is all grace. Simply trying means sometimes failing.

A teaser from the piece I'm currently working on:

O-O-O-Orion
     if you swing your star-arm finally,
     will it spin the rotors of a Blackhawk in reverse?

Swing it anyway.

O-Orion,
the lucidity of intuition is not lost on you, friend.
     Though tonight the rain is greening this earth-box,
               this round earth-box,

You are there. You are there. You are there.