Poet Marge Pierce is much too one-sided in her view of male-female relationships. Here is yet another example in her poetry of how she believes that women do all the work and men break all the rules.
This simple is way too boring to be true.
Because anger lets you will its volume
Encourages itself upon you
It is easiest to rage
Make the morning a landscape of stone
It takes informed surrender to kill the light
He left on through the night
And sit in the unhurried darkness
Of the sun on its way up
Although, in retrospect, all decisions
This week, Piercy tackles heavy themes like faith and justice, via nature’s impartiality and indifference. An equally timeless theme, I would say, although one that is likely to provoke less dialogue.
Here is the lovely poem, one of my favorite pieces by Piercy:
The Pernickety Plum Tree
The fourth year after we planted it
the Shiro plum tree gave us
two perfect plums
the color of slow clear river
running golden green in the sun,
hue of young grass,
with a fine perfume and savor
sweet and juicy in the mouth.
From the whole tree, graceful
and long limbed, two plums.
Enough to command our attention,
just enough: we each have
half a plum,
justice with a knife.
From a thousand flickering leaves,
from a hundred white blossoms
falling like stars on the path,
two plums: a fable
of highly selective productivity,
or the difficulty of fruition,
or the wisdom of a lazy tree
that we feed, that we water, that we coddle
and pick coppery beetles from,
of our own gullibility
strung along with two plums.
The bookshelves at my new meditation center in my newly new hometown of Miami. Way back when, I went to middle and high school here.
And, because life likes to remind us who’s in charge, the meditation center is, of course, directly across the street from my former high school.
Happy Columbus Day weekend, Americas!
I am thrilled to announce that The Drugstore Notebook’s first-ever “Poem of the Month” feature had a great turnout. Thank you to everyone who participated!
The winner is Miriam Sagan, pictured above, and her poem is featured below:
Ojo Caliente. July. Hotel Porch.
swimming, I break
of the cliff into ripples
once I still
The Japanese girl
at the hot springs
coos over a nest
of swallows, takes
a cell phone photograph
then, when everyone else
does the same
winces, don’t hurt
their eyes, and in childish panic
covers her own, exclaims
what if they fall out of the nest?
but they don’t–
her boyfriend, flits off
buzz each other
at the sugar feeder
of a very small
hope to hatch.
About the author:
Miriam Sagan is the author of 25 books, including the recent collection from Sherman Asher, SEVEN PLACES IN AMERICA: A Poetic Sojourn. She recently won the New Mexico Literary Arts Gratitude Award in Poetry and has received the Santa Fe Mayor’s Award for Excellence in the Arts. Miriam also does text and grassroots installations–most recently at Salem Art Works and forthcoming at The Betsy Hotel, in Miami. Find her on WordPress here.
Red Savina Review published one of my poems in Spanish in their latest issue.
I caught a jellyfish floating in a sultry jellyfish way. Click here to watch the Jelly Fish Poem unfold.