Bricks. Gardens. Gratitude. Hurts. Peroneal Tendons.

EXERCISE 081: RESTRUCTURE YOUR CITY

In the Taiwanese film What Time Is It There? (Tsai Ming-liang, 2001), the main character is a street vendor of watches. A young woman who is about to leave for Paris buys a watch from him. In an apparent ritual of unrequited desire, the young man proceeds to change all the clocks he sees in Taipei to match the time in Paris./ Have you been driven by desire or passion? For a person? An object? An ideal?/ Think of a recurring architectural feature on your street or in your city or town. It could be as simple as doors or hydrants. Write a piece that details you visiting each site and altering each one in a whimsical act that channels your desire.

For the love of bricks and justice, I proposed an oral history of a 20th century brick maker who championed “convict-free” labor. In celebration of justice-seeking bricks — which were used to build many of the houses in my neighborhood — I plant Black-eyed Susans. I plant Black-eyed Susans next to magnolias and public art. I plant Black-eyed Susans next to electric bikes and bridges. I plant Black-eyed Susans next to murals and native grasses. I plant Black-eyed Susans next to reimagined rail road tracks and food trucks. I plant Black-eyed Susans next to dumpsters and dog parks. I plant Black-eyed Susans next to botanical gardens and strip malls. I plant. 

I plant Black-eyed Susans for the world I want to create. I plant Black-eyed Susans in solidarity with a moral universe. I plan Black-eyed Susans as evidence of light in dark times. I plant Black-eyed Susans to conjure the courage to be beautiful in the face of ugliness, to be a planter of things and ideas and the as if and the not yet. 

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EXERCISE 082: TEND TO THE ELLIPSIS

unfinished sentences

Write a poem of thirteen unfinished sentences about a love affair. Include the word “garden” or a real garden.

A ODE TO A GARDEN

A garden taught me about . . . I learned to love the power of . . . I learned to love the need for . . . I learned to love the sight of . . . I learned to love the sound of . . . I learned to love the smell of . . . Vegetables and beetles . . . Bees and fertilizer . . . Heat and sunshine. . . The rhythm . . . The seasons . . . The harvest . . . The bounty . . . 

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EXERCISE 083: WRITE AFTER

“saddest” and “lightest”

“Tonight I can write the lightest lines …” opens a poem in Home Deep Blue by Jean Valentine, written after Pablo Neruda’s “Tonight I can write (the saddest lines).” Substitute your own superlative for “saddest” and “lightest” (e.g., wildest, most heretical, equestrianest …) and write a poem after Jean, after Pablo.

THE GRATEFULLEST LINES

Tonight I can write the gratefullest lines. After feeling the depths of despair and the visceral pulse of hope. After believing in mornings and singing and seasons. After practicing yoga in my home and across the world. After gratitude lists, journals, essays, games, and interviews. After teaching writing in prison, church, high school, and universities. After starting and stopping, starting and stopping, starting and stopping to write a book about gratitude. After reading poetry and writing love letters.

I can write the gratefullest lines because I practice and build my gratefulness muscles. I can write the gratefullest lines because silence is not an option. I can write the gratefullest lines because joy is contagious and I will sing. I can write the gratefullest lines because each day is a gift. 

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EXERCISE 084: ADMIT IT

this is how

Write a poem that begins: “This is how it hurts.”

This is how it hurts when the rose bouquet you placed inside your front door when friends visited died the day they went home. This is how it hurst when your best friend breaks up with you via email and then sends you a link telling you how to apologize. This is how it hurts when your arthritic finger does not straighten. This is how it hurts when several pieces of the Hadley pottery you are given for your wedding break during a move. This is how it hurts when you forget vivid details. This is how it hurts when it is 3 in the morning and deep anxiety about everything fills your bones. This is how it hurts when communal pain rips open individual pain. This is how it hurts when I am fired from a job, or ghosted on a job application, or lose the desire to apply at all. This is how it hurts when a surprise is discovered early. This is how it hurts when your favorite recipe fails. This is how it hurts when your favorite house plant dies. This is how it hurts when secrets are swallowed. This is how it hurts when someone you love disappoints. This is how it hurts when you disappoint yourself. This is how it hurts when the moon dims. This is how it hurts when milk spills. This is how it hurts inside a cocoon. This is how it hurts climbing a mountain. This is how it hurts flying too close to the sun. This is how it hurts within dawn’s elastic stretch. This is how it hurts to pay attention.

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EXERCISE 085: HONOR YOUR BODY

that has changed significantly

Write a love poem to a body part that has changed significantly in the past few years.

A LOVE POEM FOR MY PERONEAL TENDON

Years ago, I was floundering. Seeing a failure on the horizon, again. Huge and ominous and potentially halting. Bleeding from the parts of my soul that set stages on fire in pursuit of dreams. Crying through tears of fear and pain and separation from a self that had never walked a mile. I raised money for a good cause, trained with a group, and finished a marathon. You were faithful glue. You were flexible strength. You were constant presence. 

Over time, you stretched and breathed. You tensed and released. You balanced and crossed. You jumped and tore. 

Then surgery to repair the tear.

A love lesson in healing. An example of perfect timing. A body built toward strength. An inhale and exhale. 

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