Poem synchronicity, stress, and my almost-manuscript (and coffee)

Strange things happen. 

A little over a week ago, our guest poet at The Frost Place was Abbie Kiefer, a delightful person whom I had never met in person, but whose work really spoke to me. I had the pleasure of introducing her at the start of the reading, and I had read several of her poems in order to get a sense of who she is. One of the poems I read, and one that I quoted from in my introduction, was her poem, "Assistance." 

So how cool is it that yesterday's poem of the day on The Slowdown was that exact poem? 

Here is the audio, with a nice commentary by poet/ podcast host Maggie Smith. 

And I spent a few minutes reading through my almost-manuscript, and reordered the sections and the poems in the sections. I'm still not sure what's going on in the narrative arc, what story I am trying to tell with these poems. It is so much easier to arrange 25 poems into a chapbook; a full collection is more than 45 poems. I am going to try to have an even 50. 

I think there's gaps. Maybe. I might have poems to fill those gaps. I might have to write some new ones. Or figure out what I've got hidden away. And I am also not sure what to do if I want to include a poem(s) from my prior two chapbooks. How to do those things? I'm so left-footed.

I'll ask for help, of course, but I feel like I'm wading into mud.

Speaking of wading into mud, the only part of my stress dream Sunday night that I can recall in any detail is going to vote, and having the elections canceled mid-voting; they were only going to count the ones that had already gone through, and they were physically taking the half-marked ballots from our hands and shredding the ballots, laughing. 

Laughing.

This pervasive angst has got to end. 

Today, I will meet a retired former co-worker for a cup of coffee and to give her the copy of my book she'd ordered. It'll be pleasant enough. But I hope, actually, the conversation doesn't drag on-- I know, that sounds awful-- but I really want to work on my book. I suspect that being a poet requires solitude, quiet, and anxiety. 

I only have one of them.

I hope you have a good day. Enjoy the sunshine. That's something else I need-- more deck and bird calls time. And blue skies. That reminds me, I need to check/pick green beans. At last, something to harvest. 

Take care, hugs all around, be safe,

C