"Wanted: a needle swift enough to sew this poem into a blanket." - Charles Simic
Forgive me. I don't remember if I found this from a poet's post on Friday, or found it and noted it for some special post. This is a special post and Simic's words ring out to me for this next line. It's the journey of Irene Latham's idea six years ago, the Progressive Poem where each day in April one poet adds a line.
Mary Lee Hahn has offered terrific background and analysis of what has been written these first eight lines. I have had ideas whirling for a few days and wonder about this child who in my eyes, even in only eight lines, is growing up. Just as all of us have discovered, self-awareness comes with experience, experimenting and with support for choices made. In these eight lines, there is a spurt of energy of self that appears first, a defiance announced to the world, then self-doubt, a question of change perhaps to meet new-found needs. How marvelous that the poets (like parents?) thus far have filled this child with spunk and sparkle, and yes, "fidget, friction, frazzle-dazzle, also fickle and freckles". Yet, there is one thing missing in my eyes, another "f", Mary Lee, a friend. I hope I've provided an opening for that next "fling".
I’m fidget, friction, ragged edges—
I sprout stories that frazzle-dazzle,
stories of castles, of fires that crackle,
with dragonwords that smoke and sizzle.
But edges sometimes need sandpaper,
like swords need stone and clouds need vapour.
So I shimmy out of my spurs and armour
I sprout stories that frazzle-dazzle,
stories of castles, of fires that crackle,
with dragonwords that smoke and sizzle.
But edges sometimes need sandpaper,
like swords need stone and clouds need vapour.
So I shimmy out of my spurs and armour
facing the day as my fickle, freckled self.
I thread the crowd, wear freedom in my smile
Here are the April Poets. Best wishes Penny for the next line! And thanks again, Irene for creating this poem collaboration!