All things being equal this year has demonstrated that all things are not equal. Entering the chaotic world of poetry publishing became something beyond my capacity, so instead of amassing rejection slips like a true artist, I’m leaving these leavings here.
This zine pulls together seven miniature pieces in a one-page print out that folds to handy pocket size. Print, fold, and cut. Easy to slip into a year-end note, Poems makes the perfect “I think you might enjoy this and I didn’t spend money because why buy in to the capitalist agenda” sentiment. Also, they are all kind of bittersweet, which is the authentic sentiment of the holidays, especially this year. We just aren’t going to be 100% happy this year. But there’s a touch of hope and wanderlust, too, and a hint of a wisp of lindenbloom.
This small offering is in lieu of any smattering of “Best of” lists. I don’t know about your year, but even compiling a “Best of” seems like trying to make a silk purse out of…I don’t know…overwatered cacti? There were fine efforts and there were learning curves and there were proud moments and I would go so far as to say there were actual achievements. There was survival, in some cases, and mourning in more cases than one. There was prairie.
Other then the prairie and the continued good (or at least not worse) health of my family, it was little things that helped this year. Minute things, minute to minute: a neighborly wave, a thoughtful comment, a visit from the Tooth Fairy, my kids humming under their breath as they go about their kid-business, savoring a piece of chocolate or a cloudless blue sky, spotting a new-to-me bird in the backyard…all helped to combat the real, raw wrong and continuous bad news cycle. And poetry helped, too.
Proust Eats a Sandwich 
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