It is absurd to think that the only way to tell if a poem is lasting is to

wait and see if it lasts. The right reader of a good poem can tell the moment

it strikes him that he has taken an immortal wound – that he will never get

over it.

  That is to say, permanence in poetry, as in love, is perceived instantly.

It hasn’t to await the test of time. The proof a poem is not that we have

never forgotten it, but we knew at sight we never could forget it.

	

-Robert Frost-

on this day...

in 1933 the 21st amendment to the constitution ended prohibition.

celebratory drink, anyone? :)

p.s.

so i just posted my poem a few hours ago, right before the end of the semester student reading (at which i was very nervous, but it went very well, and i even received a number of compliments on my work). and when i got home from the reading, and class, and another el ride of free writing... i got an email.

apparently my poem, The Road, is one of the 3 poems by Roosevelt graduate student nominated for the AWP (Association of Writers and Writing Programs) Intro Journals Project. so it's now out into the world, waiting for the winners who will receive $100 and publication in a variety of journals to be announced in spring 2005.

pray for my poem. and in the meantime, everyone go have a drink to celebrate with me. i'd say put it on my tab, but im broke. so if i win, i'll buy ya all another round. :)

a new poem for you all my friends... :)

The Road
after Naomi Shihab Nye’s ‘Kansas’

We close the atlas, follow
the sunset across Kansas
and reminisce about childhood, puppy
love, regret—don’t mention
yesterday, when you left him
at the altar, begged me to go
with you, turned our talk westward.

Two cups of coffee, black,
at an all night diner, and back on
the road our cigarettes
glow midnight. We’ve got mountains
to see in the morning baby, but this
is the flattest night in the world,
and yesterday’s city still flickers
in the rearview mirror.

When dawn breaks, you pull over,
turn up the radio and lean
forehead on the wheel, sing
so the odometer vibrates. You
don’t know where you’re going,
but we know this song. I sing harmony,
turn the key to idle. We roll down
windows and climb onto your car roof,red, 1988, stick shift.