I’ve stolen the title of this post from Sage, and I hope she’ll forgive me for it…but it was just the perfect word to describe my current state of space. Three delicious days at the Oregon Writers Colony house, three days of poetry and poets, all under the guidance of poet-extraordinaire, Sage, at the helm, and I am rocked. I was going to say more about it, but she’s already done so, in much better words than I can find at the moment.
I’ll just say this…I’m not sure when the last time was that I’ve: written so much; laughed so hard; bonked into so many walls/expectations/bed frames/my own issues/writing discoveries/poems and came out changed, but unscathed; left my life behind; settled into words and rhythms and friendships and couches with such ease; felt prolific and at peace and at joy. So rarely in our adult lives do we have the chance to open up to strangers, to meet them heart-to-heart and word-to-word, and to discover not just the way we are the same, but the way we are different, and how we would not change that, even if we could.
On the other side of the ocean weekend, I came back to a full inbox, a room full of inspired and talented students, a life that had been waiting, it seems, while I was gone, and a hope that I can pull this poetic way of seeing into the tomorrow. Rejections, too, for stories and poems, but they scathe less when I am writing good work.
So, in honor of the weekend, I give you the strength of the Fuck Knot (a term which I stole from Sommer and turned into a poem title on my first exercise and which became one of the taglines for the weekend), the surprise of the Big Blue Jesus (yes, it must be spelled in caps, like that), the don’t-spit-your-food-out announcement of Cockle This!, and, finally, the Song of Sage that wove us all together and rocked us against the swell of words.