THIS BLOG IS NO LONGER OPERATIONAL. PLEASE ENJOY WHAT IS HERE, AND DO LEAVE A COMMENT IF YOU WISH. NORTH CAROLINA'S NEW POET LAUREATE IS CATHY SMITH BOWERS. SHE WILL SOON HAVE HER OWN WEBSITE THROUGH THE NORTH CAROLINA ARTS COUNCIL SITE. I WILL BE SHIFTING MY ATTENTION TO HERE, WHERE I AM, (SEE SIDEBAR)USING IT TO DRAW ATTENTION TO WRITERS WHOSE WORK DESERVES ATTENTION. I INVITE YOU TO VISIT ME THERE. For a video of the installation ceremony, please go to http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0xAk6fOzaNE.
Go to http://www.yourdailypoem.com/, managed with finesse by Jayne Jaudon Ferrer, who says, "Our intent is to make visitors to Your Daily Poem aware of the joy and diversity of poetry."
Sunday, July 5, 2009
INDEPENDENCE DAY, 2009, by David Hopes
David Hopes, for whom poetry opens every day to what a writer on NPR radio once called "the light beyond language," sent me this poem yesterday. Who needs fireworks when you have a poem like this? David generously gave me permission to share his poem: enjoy!
INDEPENDENCE DAY, 2009
A day more perfect could hardly– a day more purely summer- more moving marble in the heavens, more green, more cuddled to the bosom of some more radiant god, more blue crystal Carolina could ever– well, you understand.
I will dedicate this day to Allison’s wedding, where I will wear white, which is less hilarious than some may think. A week ago it was Jeff’s funeral, where I refused to wear black in my place at the pole which bore the casket, refused to wear black, but green instead, to honor the great wheels turning even at that moment all around us.
I will go to Allison’s wedding in a white, white shirt and those white shoes one has for summer, and the rest of the time shall cook the two immense zucchinis, forearm long, forearm thick (an image a little disturbing now that I think of it), most recently produced by the energy of vine and dirt and rain to make my dinner on a summer afternoon, before an evening wedding. when you know the summer Constellations– oh! wheeling there, and wheeling– will be as Fireworks, so slow, the “Ah!” drawn out into the days of God.
I've lived in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina since 1968, though I'm a native of SW Georgia. My paternal grandmother was born in the Blue Ridge, and I grew up wanting to live here. Where I am.
I've published five collections of poetry, the most recent 4 being with LSU Press, and have published poetry in magazines ranging from The Atlantic Monthly to Appalachian Heritage. But I also hike, bang pots and pans around in my kitchen, and love several dogs who leave fur all over my carpets. I write poetry because it's my way of singing back to the world both within and without.