Dreams. Exaggerations. Birds.

MONDAYS ARE FREE 036 – 050

Dear Friends,

I have been writing MONDAYS ARE FREE for about six months. It has been a source of joy. It has been the best challenge in the way that precision and economy and beauty require reflection, voices are excavated and discovered and cherished, and time is remembered and polished and held.

Mondays are Free is writing calisthenics. It’s a gym for writing muscles. I share my writing exercises, hoping my commitment to going public with my emerging journal joyfully and lovingly reinforces my desire to write and find poetry in paying attention. In the Mondays are Free introduction, Ross Gay mentions creating community as a project goal. I want a writing practice that makes me a better writer. I want a writing practice that creates community — with intention, attention, creativity, and care. I want a writing practice that helps us find what we love in common. 

Love,

Katie

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MONDAYS ARE FREE 046 – 050

EXERCISE 046: DREAMWORK

between sleep & wakefulness

Transcribe a dream exactly. Don’t comment, don’t let us know if you don’t remember this part of that part. Just transcribe what you have

We traveled to Fun City to escape into the woods behind my elementary school. Maybe 5 of us — the brave ones, the friends from the block — explored Fun City on the regular. There was Chris, who lived next door and was gifted and talented. There was Becky, who put unpopular girls underwear in the freezer at sleep overs. There was Scott, who I briefly “went with” in 3rd grade. There was Mindy, who was perfect. We rode our bikes to the edge of the woods. In slow-motion-action-hero time, we ran to the house where the Old Man lived. Nestled behind a chicken coop without chickens, a weathered shed without purpose, and a metal jungle gym on which children had obviously died, barely stood the Old Man’s house. On tip toe, we swore we heard screams. We could see it. The smell of wet cat and fear hung in the air. No magic beans would save us. No crystal shoe would fit. No kiss would wake us up. It was just us and the Old Man.

Time after time we got close. Always seeing him move between broken windows. Always being too far away to see his face or smell the stench of his flannel shirt or feel our hearts explode. We stewed in our belief that he was deadly. We imagined his horrible story. We created elaborate plans. We kept secrets within our group.

I mostly woke up after summoning the courage to knock the door.

Read entire post here. 

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MONDAYS ARE FREE 041 – 045

EXERCISE 042: ON BOLD EXAGGERATION

till the ocean is folded

A common expression is, I’m so hungry I could eat a horse. Put another emotion or attribute in that sentence. “I’m so happy I could…”; “I’m so short I could…”; “I’m so stinky I could…” With one substitution, generate an elaborate list of all the things this quality makes you able to do.

I’m so excited I could forget to wear clothes. I’m so happy I could kiss the sky. I’m so angry I could spit tacks. I cry so much rivers could have tributaries in my name. I am so stinky perfume begs to find my wrist. I am so sad my tears already found tissues. I am so organized my plans make plans. I am so smart my curiosity is bored. I am so optimistic my glass is always full. I am so motivated I sleep with my shoes on. Spring is so beautiful impermanence feels impossible. Morning is so hopeful daylight is a fortress. My bed is so soft I forget I am sleeping. I love so hard my heart bursts.

Read entire post here. 

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MONDAYS ARE FREE 036 – 040

EXERCISE 036: BEGIN WITH THE END

Cirrus whispering

Anadiplosis is the rhetorical and poetic device in which words at the end of a line are in some way taken up at the beginning of the following line.

Write a poem of no more than twenty lines that uses anadiplosis, has four instances of end-rhyme, two birds you know the name of but couldn’t identify if you saw them, and some lyrics from a hymn.

Like some Exclamatory Paradise-Whydah, I set out to find heaven.

I traveled between and up to mountaintops.

Jumped through hoops and pulled out stops.

I waded in water. I measured my steps. I searched for great faithfulness. I felt amazing grace.

I heard the sound of one voice — sometimes that’s all it takes to breathe and know my pace.

Oh, King-of-Saxony Bird-of-Paradise. Oh, Invisible Rail.

Your majesties carry me to heaven.

Your bread knows sacred leaven.

You stitch and soar.

You are anchor and oar.

Oh, Tinkling Cisticola. Oh, Sandy Gallito.

Your majesties ground me in heaven on earth.

Precious birds take my hands.

Build tables and nests.

Guide dreams and quests.

Oh, Fluffy-backed Tit-Babbler. Oh, Kori Bustard.

We will know heaven by our love. By our love.

Love divine. All loves excelling.

On wings of angels we tell.

Abide we me.

Read entire post here.

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