Sunday, May 19, 2019

The Eye As Music

I Play the Words
—Poem and Original Art by Joyce Odam, Sacramento, CA


Shall I do
the trite thing,
the bright thing,
the right thing?
Shall I rhyme
with myself forever,
or chime with the wrong sound
that never wanted me?
How shall I love
this or any other?
I am only the lonely, lonely,
I am only the echo echoed thin.
I am in
the echo.
I am thin-
ning out.
I am the great out of the in.
I was never this thin.
I am haunt of Grandfather’s violin,
of Grandmother’s deaf-seeing—
her eye as music . . .
ah, the lake, the bank, the deer . . .
the loss as butterfly.
I am melted butter;
see me fly.
I am melted butter.
Mother melted away with me.
She gave me all these words to play with
when left alone with words.
I love them.
I play I play I play the words she gave me,
rub them into poetry,
mail them,
sail them like awful airplanes into dark childhood skies,
freeze my eye upon their vanishing.


A big thank-you to Joyce Odam for letting me post this playful poem of hers today, and for her fine original artwork to match!

Two NorCal poetry events this afternoon: Wendy Patrice Williams and Carol Lynn Stevenson Grellas will read at Poetry of the Foothills (plus open mic), 1pm, in Diamond Springs. And Naomi J. Williams and Amanda Hawkins will be featured at Davis Arts Center Poetry Series on F St. in Davis, 2pm. Scroll down to the blue column (under the green column at the right) for info about these and other upcoming poetry events in our area—and note that more may be added at the last minute.

—Medusa, celebrating the words we rub into poetry!