Too many poems, too much doubt

A new year can open new possibilities.  It can also provide impulse to past fears.

Some of you may know what's been going on the past few days.  

At the end of September my sister wrote me a comment:

I am just thinking now that you could contact a publisher in Corvallis that I know that historically publishes women's literature.  The publisher's name is Margarita Donnelly, and the magazine publication is Calyx. For what it's worth.

I've got to say that my initial thought was that she was insane.  Check that.  She's sane.  I'm the insane one.

I was already familiar with Calyx.  I had grave doubts about belonging among the women they have published.  I still do.  Ursula LeGuin...Paula Gunn Allen...Barbara Kingsolver...and me?  Give me a break.

Originally posted at Docudharma

On New Year's Eve, frosti wrote:

Now that you have some time off...

...take a look at CalyxPress.org

I have spoken to the publisher, Margarita Donnelly, about you, and she is interested in your work.   She even travels to Philadelphia occasionally to see her grandchild. I think it might work, if you try.

Translation:

Robyn, get out of that corner you are hiding in and try.

So that's what I've been doing.  I know the restayas were busy with some caucus thingy or something, but I've gotten myself turned in a different direction, set to the task of unfolding a kink in the spacetime continuum.

I have written 136 poems.  Five of them (To some of us, Loneliness and Isolation, Freedom, Is There a Place for Me?) have definitely appeared in print before.  You know, in actual books or magazines.  Some of them referenced one time events or yearly special occasions.  I tossed those out.  Then I grouped the whole bunch remaining into groups of 4 and deleted one from each group.   I regrouped and repeated.

I can only submit 6.

Those of you who have been readers know that I create graphics as well and pair the graphics and the poetry.  The rules of this game are that the words must stand alone.  That had a definite affect.

It was painful to see poems I have deep feelings about be eliminated.  It was often painful to remember the emotions which caused them to be written in the first place.  

Some very painful choices (including Four Freedoms and Survivor, for different reasons) reduced the list to 40.

I printed them out for my partner to look over last night.  She picked chose and gave reasons for not selecting some of the others, such as too long (America the Ugly would require 5 to 6 pages in a journal, for example...plus, the artwork matters in that piece) or not unique to my voice (Pacifism, for example).

I think I have some nominees:  The Candy-colored Clown, An Ocean of Blood, We are Normal, Bleeding the Colors.  And I'm definitely leaning to one other, which I shall not name yet.  For now I am leaving it among the last nine.  I'm asking your help in making the final selection.

The candidates are, in alphabetical order:

Algebra The numbers dance choreographed by the symbols terpsichorean delight in my mind I hear the music see the beauty as phrases expand and collapse evolving into simplicity and meaning In my soul I feel the beating of the heart of creation	Faith Faith is the certainty that we are not alone Some people need the presence of Someone who will intercede for them before their Higher Power Some people need to know that they belong to one group only because they don't belong to another I only need to know that someone else also realizes that we can't be alone if we are all here together
Flames The fire that may burn in the belly or on the tongue slowly smoulders in the mind over the kindling of traditional thought Progress begins when I flambé the tissue of my brain over the white hot flame of new perspective	Friends Along the Way I started out on this road all alone Fear and Pain my only companions I wondered if I would lose myself The road seemed dark and fraught with peril 'Til I found I had Friends along the way As the road wound through hard terrain I sometimes doubted my ability to go on But I fought back the Fear and worked through the Pain with the help of my Friends along the way As time passed by the road ascended Obstacles less frequent but harder to pass And at times I needed the places of refuge respite and care offered to me by Friends along the way I've come to the crest of the mountain I've climbed As I look down below I see all of the barriers crossed the challenges I met and the lessons I learned I will never forget those Friends along the way What lies over the top of the road There is no way of knowing But deep in my heart From the depths of my soul I know that I'll have The company of my Friends from along the way
The Letter         This is just a note to say goodbye and warn you and them...and me of the drastic change in our life paths lying on the other side of the passage of night to introduce the person you will meet tomorrow when I return as someone else a plea to you to help nurture this fragile seed as it germinates and a heads up so you can view or maybe cause the lighting of the fuse that will initiate the explosion of our separate and joint realities a call to witness the mass reactions designed to crush the life out of me
Life doesn't care Life doesn't care if it's flora or fauna or something in between It exists at a more basic level cells reproducing or not growing...changing evolving Life doesn't care what genus or species it is or how success is measured in any other way than the proliferation of more life eating...excreting dying A joshua tree, a mayfly A redwood, a butterfly A panda cub, slime mold A humpback whale, Streptococcus pneumoniae A human being All passing fancy Life doesn't care as long as there's more life	On the Borderlands The land on the border is fertile The people are kind gentle content for the most part until of course the patrol comes by to force everyone to move to one side or the other That causes great turmoil on the borderlands so sometimes we move the border when they aren't looking
Steps One step at a time sometimes forward sometimes up Forward as I move through my life even if some wish to pull me back Perhaps they sense the peril of the new Upward is harder as I lift the burden of proceeding to another level up the staircase of human evolution beyond the mundane They do not like it that I have taken this step or even that I have shown them that this place exists Their screams of pain anger and terror will not - can not bring me back This place once conceived cannot be erased and cannot be denied Ideas cannot be unthought	The Whittlers All it took was for me to become different They jumped at the chance they sit around waiting for to grab their knives and carve away at my reputation my physical body my possessions my dignity my humanity but inside I was resolute tougher than I would have thought stubborn to the core The pain sliced at the surface of my soul but deep inside I was free and they were chained

There is a subtext here.  There is always a subtext.  This one is about that corner I mentioned...the one in which I was attempting to imitate a chameleon.

There is not belonging.  There is not believing one belongs.  And there is the situation where others don't think one belongs.

There is doubt.  There has always been doubt of one kind or another.  But presently the doubt is about the structure of the reality of belonging.

All I can do is choose to not fail before I even try.