A. Anupama
Water moves fast, and petals fall slow. And sweeping petals and pollen off of the porch is slower. And painting or writing about the garden is an increment of slowness that becomes something faster than water. How can this newness always catch me off guard? Writing poetry in springtime is more difficult than most people…
Startled from a swollen seedpod, they look up. We look up. Call it hope. A gesture captures attention far faster than an image. When a peace lily growing next to my kitchen window taps my friend on her shoulder as she’s getting a cup of punch, it’s like a poem just slapped my face. Call…
Where did someone get the idea of a poem with only 44 words and, strangely, no other constraints? And why is it named after a dance? Are they supposed to be silly as Lewis Carroll's "Lobster Quadrille," or are they supposed to be as slippery as sea creatures often are? I tried one. Quadrille If…
You have to listen to the rain. It’s the least foolish voice. Click to view film clip on YouTube That’s Ravi Shankar playing the sound of rain in this film clip from Satyajit Ray’s 1955 film Pather Panchali. And the drenched duo -- the sweet-faced brother and sister -- are free spirits stubbornly haunting land…
Wind speed is a factor. The more you can use it, the better. To be airborne, born into poetic flow, and fluid with each gesture, we need to embrace experiences. In artistic practice at our best and most honest, we trace the line of flight from birth to death. We balance on life’s axis. I’m…
Everything in the heart is a burning device. Ovens, tiki torches, gas lighters, camp stoves, soldering tool, water heater, mosquito coil, hot glue gun, toaster. You know which your loved ones are. Device and desire are so close, when we are moving around in a piece of creative work. Using rhyme or a steady line,…
Artists have routines and work habits like everyone. Sometimes these grooves are invisible because artists so often seek out new experiences and novel ways of doing things for the sake of inspiration. I would argue that our habits are core to the quality of what actually comes out of artistic practice. One useful habit is…
Poems are not about anything. Their titles aren’t the subjects, usually only indicating a partial opening into the movement of language. Maybe poems indicate where we’ve been or where we’d like to go (or not go), but that’s just the outermost part. What they are deeply about is the same thing that alarm clocks are…
Counting syllables, counting on images to carry you, counting the stanzas in the back of your mind, counting on soul to show up in the lines. Do we count the number of fishermen laughing in January chill along the river while on our Sunday walk, and do we count on the river to carry away…
Indian necklaces are heavy in the way that the moon is heavy. When you wear one, you have to move steadily as Earth to avoid causing it to twist. The sweet glow of reflected light from its gold and gems, as everyone notices, is much more lovely than incandescence. The tidal effect in a room…
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