The Poems, The Book
I wish I knew for sure.
That is, I want to write,
hope to assemble, gather,
cull, distill, even organize
another book of poems
from my thousands of poems.
How to choose them?
And I want to publish
my odd book US
with my friend Ruth
and figure out how
to find audiences
in unexpected places.
And then, maybe a play.
The Play
A cold day.
Irene Fornes said
Never Begin With Weather.
Turgenev disagreed. Weather
in the first sentence he said.
Today could be colder.
Today is December.
Cold equivalent.
Cold Christmas week.
Fornes said
Place a Gun on the Table.
I don’t like guns I said.
If there’s no gun she said
no one will pay attention.
You need that gun.
I said I’d use Other Means.
She didn’t much like my one and only
play: two people talking on a couch
in Goodwill about their relationship.
My playwriting partner was
Anna Devere Smith. She placed
her gun on the table.
Sunday I saw a play called Off Peak
Two people sitting
on a Metro North train.
Talking about their relationship.
No gun.
Maybe this year I’ll try again.
Butter. If you don’t want guns.
You go for it, Esther!!