To Whom It May Concerned. #VerseLove Continues. I'm Pacing Myself. Always Love the Month of Poetry & Transition to Spring.

It's Saturday. What a week! What a month! What a semester. Congratulation to all the MidYork teams who made it to finals and to my alma mater for almost...almost...making it to finals. They were out, I believe, my a tenth of a point. Always an accomplishment after so much time, energy, money, practice, and commitment. There's just something about Sport of the Arts that remains in my curiosity of what it means to be human. 

Yesterday's prompt was to write a Love Letter to a place, but I opted to think about the Long Island Sound, the week ahead, and the programming that has been long in the coming. Perhaps this will be my tribute to the Walt Whitman work. We'll see what comes from an afternoon on the Sound. 

But I really need to grade. My left hip doesn't like all the sitting that comes with a grading life. C'est la vie. But we're winding down the semester and I need to stay on top of it all. Here's also to the wonderful tea gathering yesterday at the local tea house with Michelle and Beth. It's a treasure and I've only walked inside twice (spending a gift card on chai to end a hectic work week). 

To Whom It May Concern; 

I’m writing to acknowledge

that illusion of fires at St. Elmo’s

were meant to be momentary,

to perpetuate lawyer lives,

and additional yuppy myths

to get us 90s kids 

to see a need for college

& to lure our brat packs 

into pre-grunge love stories. 

Winona tells it better, though.

Reality bites, and that is why 

I’ve always loved the sea

& Edie Brickel, 

(but man, she left me

to shoot rubber bands

at the moon with those other

bohemians & now I’m walking

barefoot in the sand

without her hand to hold).

I’m more water than land,

anyways: Oneida, Lebanon,

St. Lawrence, the Atlantic.

I’ve cheated on Danish fjords

with Bays of Tintagel. 

I left rivers of Kentucky for sounds

of Long Island.

 

Anyways, next week, we’re gathering 

to sing songs of ourselves

with Whitman

I don’t know about you, 

but I need to feel leaves of grass

between my toes again. 

They’ve been ready to 

thaw for months,  

and I’d love for you to join us.

I’ll bring the notebooks.

Perhaps we will

fall in love, again.

~Bryan, the Geek-boy Frog