Poetry Month: April 7: South Pitt St.

Anyone who moves to Old Town Alexandria has to undergo an acclimation period--during which time you trip on uneven brick sidewalks, skid and twist ankles on the few cobblestone streets, learn again the rules for four-way stops and who has the right of way. You figure out your own shortcuts, determine traffic patterns, and refresh your parallel parking skills. 

Having lived in two separate locations on South Pitt Street since we moved here, I've traveled frequently on the first block of South Pitt Street, between King and Prince--and this is where I set today's MAPP poem.

South Pitt Street

Gazing north to south

(like the Confederate soldier on Prince)

you can see St. Mary’s School,

centered and commanding:

an obvious destination.

But,

south to north,

there are obstructed views

of delivery trucks,

police cars, local traffic

jammed up at King.

Snaking round the trucks,

the taxis, emerging cars

from the hotel garage,

and incoming courthouse mavens,

I pay attention to jaywalking tourists

(who are paying no attention)

as I calmly drive

on the wrong side of the road

as Alexandrians do

--as they often must—

negotiating Pitt Street.

Poetry Month: April 6: Road Rhythm

If you live in Alexandria--and pay attention to poetry--you may have heard about the MAPP project. Initiated by my successor, Amy Young, the MAPP project is trying to get poems and pictures of the various streets and scenes in Alexandria, with an eye toward establishing an interactive map of the city. Upon its completion, you should be able to open up a map of Alexandria, click on a location, and see a poem, a photograph, a piece of art that is particular to that spot.

And so, I have been writing poems about my city--as have others--in the hope of covering the city with poems and pictures. Here's one.

Road Rhythm

Mason, Duncan,

Bellefonte, Howell,

Windsor, Custis,

East Del Ray.

My homecoming song

has a rhythm all its own;

along the parkway,

Slater’s Lane, Monroe--

then finally, Mt. Vernon,

where I launch

the joyous chorus:

Mason, Duncan,

Bellefonte, Howell,

Windsor, Custis,

East Del Ray.

East Del Ray and home.

Poetry Month: April 5: Hypochondria

Hypochondria

In the silent midnights of my life,

my body whispers;

my legs tell thrilling tales of thromboses,

and my cough recalls all it ever knew 

of bacilli and bronchitis.

A heaviness around my heart

recalls  all the warning signs

I once dismissed,

and my stomach’s rebellion

at a too-late meal

consists of dire warnings

that this might

not

be

just heartburn.

A twinge, an ache, a muscle cramp

portend the suffering to come.

I envision all…

and free fall off sleep’s cliff,

dreaming of funerals

all the way down.

Poetry Month: April 4: Found Haiku

If you are a Facebook friend, you may have seen the link I shared to New York Times haikus (brought to my attention by my dear friend, Sharon...) I was struck by the idea of FINDING haikus in unexpected places, and so I thought I'd put it to the test. I picked up the nearest magazine on my coffee table--which happened to be Smithsonian Associates--and started leafing through it, looking for potential haiku material. Eureka! With much serious counting of syllables and some (slight) changes in vocabulary, here are four that I came up with, in the space of about 20 minutes. Not exactly perfectly polished gems (see Natasha) but creditable...

Success in Science (from a lecture description, Letters to a Young Scientist, by Edward O.Wilson)

It doesn’t depend

on mathematical genius,

but finding new solutions.

Today’s Science (from a Smithsonian advertisement for a conference on June 1st)

The cutting edge of

science and technology:

the future is here.

House of God (description of a class on the creation of a Gothic cathedral)

Chartres, Beauvais, Cologne

the art of the cathedral:

building for their God.

Philosophy of Human Nature (description of a class of same title)

What makes us human?

Thought, feeling, and consciousness?

No easy answers.

Poetry Month: April 3: False April

False April

A chill wind whips through

a patch of daffodils,

dipping their puzzled heads

before its blast--

wondering why

they left their cozy beds

for this—

this spring-that-isn’t,

this cold, this blustery

April.

April is mild (or should be)

with soft rain and balmy breeze,

with bursting buds

and timid crocus

peeping from thickets of

long-leaved tulips.

Yet  this year we cower

before a March-like wind

that  trumps, then freezes,

empty April promises.