Uhhh....

So this time finals hit and I gave no notice of a hiatus. For this I apologize.. sort of. These past few weeks have been incredibly turbulent, hence the lack of posts. But don't worry. I'll be at a loss of commitments once I go home for break, so expect a lot of cathartic poetry. Trust me... it will happen.

To tide you over, here are a pair of poems I wrote in response to my abuelo's passing. They were not really about him but rather for me coping. My sonnet "Orange Peals" was also about him, though he was still alive at the time.

SO.... yeah.... here's some stuff.


Cremation

My psychiatrist made me do this exercise so I wouldn’t kill myself:
Draw anything that was bothering me
In detail
And take a match to it. That was happiness: cleansed, liberated pain.
It worked well
Some of the time,
But most of the time
I just sat there, watching the graphite ignite and sputter,
The scraps of paper withering like idealists on a pyre.
I would hold my hands over the flames and let them pinch me.
The ashes breathed like an old man:
Reluctant, but purposeful,
Violent, but natural.
When they died they turned blue.
I left the heaps on the driveway.
The world makes a good urn.

When I was no longer trying to kill myself,
My grandfather died.
He could have used the exercise more than I did.
He liked living
Some of the time,
But most of the time
He would contemplate in silence,
Chewing his cheek until his eyes watered,
Imbibing every facet of regret.
So of course, at his funeral, we took a match to him.
I just sat there, watching the blanket dissolve
And pinching myself.
Abuelo is dead.
Abuelo is dead.
Abuelo is dead.
Yet I swore he reminded me of scraps of paper.
And I swore I saw him smiling.
When it was all over his ashes were blue
And we put him in a pile.
An urn makes a bad world.


You Stayed Overnight

The night before my grandfather’s funeral,
I couldn’t sleep. I stayed up the whole time
Thinking to myself.
But I didn’t think at all about him
Or mortality
Or anything I was supposed to think about.
I thought about you.
I thought about how we managed
To not touch each other at all
While sleeping on a twin bed
The night before I left for home.
How I nestled to your side like a spear,
Checking to see if you were still alive.
I figured you were; you snore sounded like stripping ropes.
I could predict their pitch and feel them sink into your diaphragm
Like stones. Like pebbles. Like complaints.
You weren’t supposed to fall asleep. You were supposed to leave after tea,
After talking for one hour,
Two hours,
Four.
I’m an atheist, but I never have guests, especially ones like you.

Unpublished Material, ©2011 Cali Digre

Ummmm

So you've all noticed that I've suddenly stopped my poem project. This is not unintentional. I'm in dire need of a break from writing poems, so I'm going to finish the final fifteen sometime in the future. I'm taking time off from poetry to do some other creative stuff, just as a change of pace.

Don't worry; I'll be back!

Just not for a bit.

I hope to come back refreshed and filled with eagerness to write poetry. I'm just a bit burned out.

-Cali

Hiatus

I'm going to be going on a little break because finals are between now and the end of the week. I'll resume posting on Friday with number 35!

-Lazy Cali

Inconsistency is my middle name

Or at least it should be. No poem today again. I'll do double duty tomorrow I PROMISE.
On the bright side, this time I'm warning you guys

Whoops/ Triple threat

So Wednesday night I had an excuse to not post. I was in a hotel with no internet, but I dutifully wrote my poem anyway. We were staying in a valley, and I watched a mountain darken as the sun went down. This is also one of the first poems I've written in a while with a very strict meter somewhat like some of the old romantic poetry. I've been kind of caught up in romanticism while floating down fjords and going through mountains. Because it's contagious, seriously. You get around nature too long, you start really worshipping it.

Moral: Big or small, the flighty and cowardly have no power.

7/13

The mountains have so few of friends,
For when the midnight here descends
All that they leave are silhouettes.
Who would place hope in any stone
That cannot brave the dark alone?
And so they crumble to their shell.
Like lonely trees that lift their height,
So much they paint against the light.
So much have they in their regrets,
So much their traces have to tell.

Since being in Bergen, I've been busy and going crazy with Grieg. I've always really liked his music, and my favorite piece of his is called "Våren" or "Last Spring." I've always wanted to write a poem to go along with the music, not so much as text but as a supplementary piece. So that's what I did.

Moral: Memories are eternal

7/14

The green is buried below.
But I will always remember
The earth’s hello
Last spring.

Birds deep in the summer sky.
But I will always remember
Their very first cry
Last spring.

I will always remember
Last spring.

And finally, I've tried my hand at writing something a little lighter. Often times I get so wrapped up in my poetry that I don't always inject humor into it. So that's what I'm doing. Just to make sure I still have a sense of humor. Bergen is a lovely but very touristy city, so I've been laughing at the gimmicky/ kitschy things they have for sale that really aren't worth it.

Moral: just because you can, doesn't mean you should.


7/15

A Norwegian flag hat,
An “I heart Bergen” cup,
A magnet with a troll,
You know, the stuff that
Really makes you whole.

I’m not gonna lie.
This truth was thought up
By many, many scholars:
“My friend, you can buy
Anything with dollars.”

Unpublished Material, ©2011 Cali Digre

No poem today

Seriously. I'm exhausted right now and want nothing more than to sleep. I'll make it up somehow later in the week. Maybe I'll post a longer poem or something. Yeah.

:(

Well, what do you know?

This final period has been terrible for me, and it seems like I will go the entire two weeks without writing a poem, much to my sadness. I had not anticipated this at all, but when it comes to priorities, term papers must be put before verse. However, I do have some very nice ideas for some poems that I will definitely put on paper once I've decompressed.

I look forward to writing on this blog with a clearer conscience and boundless time.

P.S. This is me in the 4th floor stacks of our library. No escaping here.

So... This is definitely crunch time

Yeah. I prematurely reinstated the twice a week posting, but from here on out there is going to be a lot of running and probably not a lot of poetry. Sorry.

New rule: from here until the end of finals (Relax, only two weeks), I'll be posting sporadically. If I find time to post a poem, I will on the day I write it, but if I can't/ won't/ don't, there will be no new posts. Though the chances of me going an entire fortnight without writing a poem are very unlikely.

Hope your May's are going better than mine.
-CD

So....

Revised Schedule!
This semester has been crazy difficult for me, so I don't have enough time to write poems TWICE a week. Trust me, I'd LOVE to, but it's not something I'll be able to maintain at this time. Maybe in the summer I'll have more time.
So now I'm just gonna be posting Fridays. Yay Fridays. Something to look forward I suppose...