December, December, and some personal reflection...

There is always an excuse for quitting NaNoWriMo before I'm finished. Last year, it was because I wanted to burn my book in a fire* and because I was going to be on the road for about a week. This year, we had a death in our friend group and we were watching another friend's children while she was out of town. I had planned to write through the kids' visit (and even set-up a writer's nest in the mudroom), but the combined effort of copping with everything going on=a hot mess.

There is a poem that always seems to pop up in my life when I'm struggling with particularly difficult deaths. Outside of Dickinson's Because I could not stop for death, I think this is probably one of her most famous poems. I found the first one to be too abstract- but maybe it was my high school lit teacher singing the lyrics to the tune of The Yellow Rose of Texas that ruined that poem for me. I've had a collection of Dickinson's poetry since middle school, and this was the poem, of all her collected poems, that resonated deeply with me. For mother's day, I printed this poem and framed it as a gift to my mother.

Several years ago, when Pam died, two of our family friends also passed away of the same disease around the same time. This happened around the time I started this blog. It was a rough. I lost three women who were dear to my heart and role models for what strong, intelligent women can do in a world, as long as they stay true to themselves and their passions.  On the back of the program for Helen, this poem was printed. I took it, framed it, and put it in my home. It felt right.

I don't know what it is about this poem that follows me. The Sunday that we found out about Jade's death, it popped up in my pinterest. It was just there. It's just here. So I want to share it with you.

Hope is the thing with feathers
By Emily Dickinson 

Hope is the thing with feathers-
That perches in the soul-
And sings the tune without the words-
And never stops-at all- 

And sweetest-in the Gale-is heard-
And sore must be the storm-
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm- 

I’ve heard it in the chillest land-
And on the strangest Sea-
Yet-never-in Extremity,
It asked a crumb-of me.

I gave myself permission to let this goal go and focus on the people in my life who need some love (myself included). It has been a rough November. The difference between last year and this year is that I'm going to finish this book. I don't think it's any good, but I like my weird little queer hunter with her weird little family of thieves, knitters, and sailors. I keep having flashes of how I want to go on with it- so I'm going to make that happen.

I don't know how to lead a slow life, readers. I full-tilt run through my days and that's mostly how I like it. This is the first full day kid-free and I think I'm finally letting myself feel all the feelings about everything that's happened in the past two weeks. I've been weepy all morning. I wish I could take a couple days off to just be in the moment and sit with these emotions. I may hermit this weekend to bake, and write, and feel all the feels.

I'm excited about April already, and not just because it's the month between my two wedding anniversaries, but because Abbey and I are going to NaPoWriMo (yeah, buddy). One of the side effects of intense prose writing is that I have a pretty extensive list of ideas for poems that I didn't have the time to pen. By then, I want to get the mud room totally cleaned out and converted into a writing room. I'm getting a sweet space heater/fake fire/iPod player for Yule from my lovely wife, and a dear friend is donating her beautiful antique desk. I have plans for this mud room. It will be nice to have a room of my own.


*This would have been unfortunate, as I only write on my laptop. Can you burn a cloud? Questions for a future generation.

Hug an LGBTQ poet today (and tomorrow and the next day)!

Tomorrow kicks off LGBTQ history month! In honor, I want to try to cover some of my favorite LGBTQ poets. While I was doing research for this blog post, I was honestly trying to think of an earnestly heteronormative poet and I honestly couldn't. I guess I can only really think of Sylvia Plath and Seamus Heaney. Okay, now that I'm really thinking about it, I can put my finger on several. Regardless, I guess my point is that poetry has been a timeless safe space for us queers.

Poets of ambiguous or clearly stated LGBTQ sexualities who I totally dig:

1. Edna St. Vincent Millay (the poet this blog was titled after)
2. Oscar Wilde (never read a lot of his poetry, but it's brilliant and I love his stories)
3. Lord Byron
4. Elizabeth Bishop (One Art will always be my favorite of her poems)
5. Emily Dickinson (this one was a shock to me, but is apparently a thing. Susan)
6. Sappho (Duh)
7. Georgia Douglas Johnson
8. Maureen McLane (Syntax is honestly one of the best poems I've read in ten years)
9. Audre Lorde
10. Adrienne Rich
11. Allen Ginsberg
12. William Shakespeare (obviously)
13. Marilyn Hacker
14. Langston Hughes

Please note that I have left out several famous spoken word folks- I think I've already babbled about how I feel about spoken word, slam jam, poetry jams, etc., etc., but I'll leave it simply at this: I characterize spoken word as more as a vein of performance art then a form of poetry. While I admit there is an intersection, it's the difference between a tomato and a peach. 

With respect, this is a fairly sparse, pedantic list. If you're more into post modern poetry, the poets you want to check out from this list are Maureen McLane, Audre Lorde, Adrienne Rich, etc; with the exception of Maureen McLane, these are all fairly canonical poets. There are a plethora of fabulous, current LGBTQ poets and I definitely intend to delve into their work this month. I just wanted to start from my base of knowledge, the original fires of my love.

But don't take my word for it- here are some good articles about LGBTQ poets:

• Ten Lesbian and Bisexual Poets to Fall In Love With
• 8 Great Poets that can Break Our Hearts
• 5 Gay Poets and Playwrights for LGBT History Month

What would your list look like? Who speaks to you?