Monthly Archives: January 2015

often we are off:

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offbeat, offkey, often we are off to see
dirt cheap wizards behind neon signs
in flickering electric memory
in polka-dot colors, chromatic designs
outside a chorus of whizzing rhymes
we find ourselves without a home
without the words we used to use
we find ourselves quite free to roam
on brick-road metaphors, if we choose
without very much at all to lose
from empty pockets of childhood bliss
with ruby shoes along strange terrain
where we lose ourselves in a poppy kiss
consulting exposed histories in the rain
to sing along, a horse without a tether
in a wonderful land of because, because
we can meet, I swear, whatever the weather
we can meet by the music of whatever once was

Copyright © 2015 · Elizabeth Ganot · All Rights Reserved ·

dear december 2014 (tall stars and sparkling trees)

thedayafterchristmas
Dear mountain mosquito melody-
Dear spongy expiring peppermint tea cake-
Dear last day of the year-
Dear statements like pages in a magazine you might flip through-
Dear December 2014-

The day after Christmas is all tags and names and half written lists strewn across the table with some thick coil or ribbon untied in every corner of your heart and mind. I try to bundle the year- to pack up the pile of mornings- to close the box on a solid idea I can stamp a clear label on and send on its way. The gifts of the year are hushed, collected, burnished with past efforts and future inspirations. What you hold onto is the present.

The last day of the year ends with a country bonfire- with tall stars and sparkling trees on the side of the mountain I’ve called home for the last few years. The bright trails drifting up beyond the ceiling of stars are better than fireworks. I let the the conversation around me warm my cheeks well past three in the morning. I watch as a young man named Leif prods and shakes off sparks into the darkness. His face reminds me of a young Vincent Van Gogh. I feel good about meeting him on such a starry night. As the year closes, I am reminded that we are lucky to have each other to influence and inflame each other forward. Ezra Pound wrote in a letter to Harriet Monroe “My problem is to keep alive a certain group of advancing poets, to set the arts in their rightful place as the acknowledged guide and lamp of civilization.” I continue to hear these broad announcements that our modern years are full of darkness- but I am hopeful because I still see a light in people. It’s there. And I believe we can still help each other keep the fire alive and keep it bright.

thenewyear2015

Here is the last poem I wrote in 2014-

Epilogue of Sundays:

the home haircut of ideas, the morning was discussed
the loose wiring of ambitions, that befriender of genius
waiting on a weekend electrician for Ezra’s lamp
a cagey dawn in episodic tantrums that squarely passed

so you think you can write poetry, in your latest craze
illuminate sunsets and blasphemy and science and haze
lay bare obscurities to satisfy the erudite
out of Homer lots and home garages, romance the dendrite

with the last volt and pixel and the bright stain in your cheek
helping fireflies escape their mason jars can take the whole week
as whatever light you are chasing leaves no sign to stop
the last offer can be left open on the modern desktop

 

 

love and sparks into the darkness,
Elizabeth