(Photo from 2017 when, as a mere kid of 74, I could still slide my wedding ring over at least one arthritic knuckle, though on the right hand.) An Invitation to the Party has many snippets of poetry, taken from my (vast, unfortunately) store of unpublished work, and given to its main character, the poet, Garnet, to use as samples of her work. Through Poetry Month and beyond, I'll be posting a poem a week from the novel and telling its story. Despite what I just said, I'm going to begin with a published poem from the poetry collection in the photo above; it is also the novel's epigraph: The universe’s favorite word is yes. The word she uses most often is no. It’s a mystery. She doesn’t understand it herself. I chose this little heartbreaker because it fit the story I was telling so well. It remains a mystery to me why our lives (it's possible this may apply to only me, but I do think I have company) are so often met with no when the obvious reply (in our not-so-objective opinion) should be yes. In my poetry collection, How the Universe Says Yes to Me, this short verse is the last of seven linked poems collectively titled "The Universe Speaks. " They were the serendipitous result of coming across Mike Dooley's website, "Notes from the Universe." The "notes' referred to are personalized emails (sent to you for a monthly fee - Mike has succeeded in monetizing the concept) in which the supposed universe is relentlessly upbeat about your day, your prospects and your future. It's all very Hallmarky (yes, I made up a word) and nothing like my own experience of a universe that believes in tough love, while also being unreliable, scary, vindictive, and yes, occasionally beautiful and beneficent. I didn't join Mike's happy universe club, but I do owe him a thank you for providing inspiration, first for those poems, then for the collection to house them, and finally for the title of that collection. The seven poems are my antidote to all Mike's sunshine and flowers and were so much fun to write. My universe immediately chose the pronouns she and her. Her preferred tone was one of exasperation, the first poem a reply to my latest request: How the Universe Says Yes to Me I can't hear you. You want what? Oh, please. Now? Okay, maybe next week? Is never soon enough for you? No. Did you not hear me? No! Give it up. Move on. Believe me, you'll be glad you did. It's not what you think. Oh, all right, just this once. But you won't like it. ***************************************************************************************** She addressed my complaints of inequity and unfairness: The universe plays favorites. What? You’re shocked? Shocked! The universe is not surprised. She considers you a bit of a dim bulb at times, one unable to grasp that what stands there on its webbed feet quacking at you could possibly be a duck. It’s unfair, you say? I’m sorry, did I miss the fairness clause? Wait. There is no fairness clause, in fact, no contract. Quack, quack. **************************************************************************************** And a last example gives the universe's take on karma: She sees you. Over there, reaping what you sow, the air above your weed-choked lawn thick with dandelion fluff, all the while obsessing about your neighbor’s emerald turf. The universe would like to reassure you that karma is real, despite never operating as quickly as you wish in the case of others, nor as slowly as desired in your own sorry circumstance: you forget you see only his front yard. ***************************************************************************************** If you like these poems, you might also like the collection (and support a small, independent press): Find "How the Universe Says Yes to Me" at mainstreetragbookstore.com
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April 2024
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