A Wind That Seems to Aim for It Alone

(Writing Class Immersion Journal!)

I always marvel at Pardi's version of prose poetry. It seems so foreign to process because line breaks are pretty natural to me, and I try to break a line where it sounds best. I don't yet know how to accurately describe how it sounds best – it just does. The sound of a semi colon is different than the sound of a dash – see what I mean? I learned that from reading Jane Hirshfield's work; it's been invaluable, to say the least. People notice sometimes – one of my dear friends commented that even on Facebook chat, I use the dash. I definitely picked up the habit in writing a ten-and-some-page paper on Hirshfield's work last time I was in Poetry III class. I quoted (and thus typed out) whole poems to prove whatever point I was trying to make, and with each dash I copied out of The October Palace, I understood better how punctuation sounds. Crazy, right?

So back to Pardi's prose poetry – I have to say that I admire the ability to craft in such a way. It still feels like a poem, but also like a short story – flash fiction or something of the sort. Line breaks are basically thrown out of the window in favor of the asterisk. Stanzas are replaced by the common paragraph, and yet – it's still so poetic. It bothers me to no end in my own writing when a line break sounds wrong to me. I have yet to write a prose poem I was happy with. I feel I ramble.
Last week, being very stressed out with school, I asked of a Rhapsodomancy reading if I would continue to experience high levels of such stress. It told me, in not so many words, that of course I would. As if it were ever a question... And for the most part, it turned out to be so. I have worked so hard over break thus far, and it is only Monday in the early afternoon. I'm still sitting around in pajamas, sipping coffee – but I have painting supplies out and book covers to finish. Granted, I am not so stressed now that I can sleep a little later and don't have to spend hours in classes. I still have homework, of course – but I am relaxing a bit. And I don't have to worry about affording food right now, which is always good. (A thank you to the Parents...) Financial stress is one step worse than college stress, in my opinion. (I'm trying so hard to get money together to move from Port Jervis to Oswego and pay June's Rent. I think I'm at $150 out of a $600 minimum goal.) I canceled my weekly “Saturday Divination” in which I read cards or runes for some friends who read my Tumblr blog, four or five on Saturday – and then I type up the interpretations and provide a photo of the cards. I pushed those back to the weekend after spring break in hopes it would reduce stress. Funny story – everything got worse. I got assigned a few more things to pile on top of everything I already have. For my English class, I am looked at with the notion that I alone can actually read half a book in a week and understand what's going on well enough to write a whole essay. For my Anthropology classes, I now have to find a few more hours to read closely, because weekly quizzes are becoming commonplace where they weren't earlier in the semester. I was able to skim the readings and converse in class before – and no longer. Of course it has to do with my mind frame – my metaphysical studies must always come first. Once they don't, the world starts to fall down over my shoulders. But I might compare myself to Atlas just for now – just for a little while – if it helps me get through it.

For this week's reading, I ask: “How will my guest teaching experience go this week?”

“grackles twirling like kites

but without the strings

to untangle afterwards

and the boy cutting each one loose

save his favorite, which he fastens

to a park bench, leaves aloft,

into the night, with a wind

that seems to aim for it alone – how

like a tree after emptying

the world then seems – between risen

and fallen

what, in place, remains.” (Pardi pg. 24. Poem: Two Hands)

What a strange reading, and a strange interpretation I have... to be sure the experience will be daunting, and just like at every presentation, I will be internally frightened – perhaps like said grackle caught on a string. I'm understanding that these events are necessary chaos. Did I mention Loki ever before? On my path previously, I tended to play it safe and not project my voice. I didn't want to speak. I was all for reading and writing, and not being noticed too much. Perhaps a part of me once believed that I had nothing worth saying. I took difficult situations and tried to make sense of them based on things that were already tried and true – by the book, academically. Of course, in Metaphysical Studies, none of what is by-the-book is ever going to work for every single person. So, long story short, Necessary Chaos decided to find His way onto my path very recently. Maybe it's helped. Maybe it's just craziness. He would probably be the boy cutting loose grackles – except for the one attached that needs a dose of change. Is the wind that chaotic to a bird? Yes. And also No. And I think that's the lesson that I need to be paying attention to as I try something radically new this week. I'll report back in Part II (Yes, a second #5 journal) after returning to campus on Sunday.