Elegy continues … with L.A. sunshine stirred in …

Is history re-written?

Buy booze but not new boots.
Liquid creativity, she claims.
Her choices are a map indicating her true north.
Is her compass cracked or perhaps she is geographically-challenged?

She awaits the half summer light.
Swallows more white lightning, but holds Time in a bottle.
Maybe she’ll buy new sandals.
Or booze and go barefoot. It’ll be summer, after all.
She reads others’ work and makes a new resolution.

Positive space is sometimes as important as its counterpart.

The next page opens to sand on a beach.
To what and to whom does one say no?

Caryolyn Forche’s poem Elegy (from the book angel of History), “The page opens to snow on a field: boot holed month, black hour/ the bottle in your coat half vodka half winter light./ To what and to whom does one say yes?”

No, my dog didn’t eat my first poem…

my computer is functioning fine
and while I’d love to blame my not promptly posting on wordpress, 
that’s not the truth, either.
I keep my promises. I don’t promise often. Easier that way.

a chance to audition for Oscar-winning director Steve McQueen
is an opportunity that comes along maybe once every 12 years…
So I made a compromise.
I went uptown writing along the way. All the way to 145th street, to be exact.

The line snaked for several Manhattan-sized city blocks.
I stood out. No, it wasn’t the poet glowing from within. Tho that didn’t hurt.
I was the only blonde. One of 3 females.
A rep looks at me and says, “I’m sure you’re very talented BUT I don’t think you could play an African-American male convincingly.”
I smile.
Fair enough. But to audition for Steve McQueen…
“The notice said, ALL people welcome and I am a person.”
We both grinned.
“Misprint.” and seeing my disappointment added, “Unfortunately.”
Do I trust him? Is he speaking the truth?
“We are accepting drop-offs.” he encouraged me.
I look at the line snaking around the block. and another block. and another block. and still going…
Thanking him, I hand him my headshot and resume.

Today, my creative energy is better spent writing poetry.