poetry

chasing rainbows

in , ,

recently I learned about a place called rainbow valley. this is a section of the northeast ridge route up mt. everest, located within the infamous “death zone” at an altitude of more than 26,000 feet. fascinated by the places that lure us, I had to write about rainbow valley. listen below to learn more about mt. everest’s “death zone” & hear my poem, chasing rainbows.

Music:
Sad Trio by Kevin MacLeod
Link: https://incompetech.filmmusic.io/song/4314-sad-trio
License: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/

green(s)

in , ,

green with
(envy)

holding on
like a breath
before
falling.

g(r)o(w)ing
toward
the light.

insagram poetics.

what's a gorgon anyway?

in ,

medusa the gorgon, fated to turn men all men who looked upon her to stone… but was it a curse? or a blessing?

medusa was one of three gorgons, daughters born to phorcys & ceto. the only mortal among her immortal sisters—sthenno & euryale—medusa was either born with her infamous serpent hair; or according to ovid, was later cursed by athena with an appearance so hideous she turned all who looked at her into stone as punishment for the crime of daring to be raped by poseidon in athena’s temple.

beheaded by perseus while she slept (the only way the supposed hero could manage to defeat her). upon her death her children, pegasus & chrysaor, sprang from her bloodied neck. perseus avoided the vengeance of medusa’s sisters by wearing the helmet of darkness, gifted to him by hades, which granted him invisibility. those ancient rapists gotta stick together right?

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hope

in ,

“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.

-emily dickinson, #314

hope, after emily dickinson (2019)

the park

in ,

journal, mt. hollywood summit

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if butterflies are symbols of transformation then mt. hollywood must be a place of transformation because it’s always swarming with butterflies up here. they make me nervous.

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summit

I forgot

how to wear myself

comfortably draped

a swirl of cloth

tied at the elbows

& knees.

expectation of give—

I never learned

what holding firm is.

ghosts

in ,

untitled (ghosts) self portrait series, 2019.

I’m skin
& bone
& maybe
more.

maybe—
I wanted to be born.
maybe—
I wanted to be a ghost?

becoming
is slow like
weeds pushing
up through
cement.

but sometimes—
I wear my skin
as a costume.

eyes

in
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tiger’s eye

bringer of bright &
light to shadow places.
level headed like
a picture properly held.
solid enough to build
houses but still a kind
of breeze between trees.

2 Years

in ,

Since February 2017 I’ve been writing a new poem every single day. Recently I’ve been thinking about when & how my poem-a-day project should end & I think two years is a nice symmetrical number. 730 total poems. Today is the day. Poem-a-day is done!

The project initially began because, after I finished my MFA, I felt like I wasn’t being creative enough in my daily life, & my creative muscles were shrinking. The poems became little warm up exercises for my poet brain, just to get the juices flowing. As an avid journal keeper I’m used to processing life events through words, but the poems also gave me space to examine the things that happened to me over the past two years. Really they gave me space to think & chew on ideas.

I like to joke that 99% of the daily poems are terrible. They were more about the process of doing & practice than being any “good”. But I do still have my favourites. The poem-a-day tumblr will stay up at poemadaydoctoraway.tumblr.com if you feel inclined to explore it. I’ll continue writing poetry of course, & have reserved a highlighted instagram story for new compositions, @natalie_raymond. Below are some of my fave pieces from the project.