"dazzle gradually"

"Dazzle Gradually" 2017 poems, paintings, new art & photography--a diary, a discipline, a delight. Read over my shoulder as I post my unedited poetry ---you can see it in the raw or get my first book and see how the work evolves with new books rolling out next year.

Polly Alice

Saturday, November 29, 2014


     I only need four poems this month to beat my personal record for 2011. So I need to somehow write four poems. Maybe you're like me and you think of ideas for poems every once in a while, or you think something and say, "That would make a good poem." Then you forget.
     To me writing poetry is mostly the act of remembering and noticing with enough rhythm and muscle to build a picture out of. The picture is built with words. And the result should clang, like a cymbal.
    I keep journals and notes, but poems are slippery like tadpoles.  They run away even as you sit down to write one. I have a note from a few weeks ago that reads, "poetry sneaks up on your like leaves collecting under a tree." I think that is true. I've never written many poems this time of the year. And I find that really it's a great time for it.  In the winter I'll revise them into book submissions. In this blog you find my first drafts, lucky you.


Today at eleven
in the morning
it looked as though
the sun were setting
the shadows ran
home for dinner
while we hadn't
a thought toward
Dunch was all
the shadows
said, a hard word,
just like them
to whip in
early to spoil
what narrow
light leaked from
the sun--
we ignored them
and walked like
it were summer
down the horse
trail, the dirt
soft under my boots.
How is that possible?
Through inches
of sole, something
home, home
The white air
chittered with
horse musk
sweet with alfalfa
and a black
ribbon of smoke.
Off the trail,
the bits of leaves
had little crunch
left in them--
like so many
poems blown
against the barn,
or stuck
in the fur
of curled up

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