“Can you remember? when we thought
the poets taught how to live?”
from “Poetry: I” by Adrienne Rich
Today’s prompt was to write a poem from the #1 song of the year you were born. I wanted to get out for my day’s excursion (I am road tripping around CA on my spring break), so I pasted the lyrics of A Horse With No Name, a song with terrible grammar and fabulous desert imagery, into word with the intention of doing an erasure poem.
As I drove through the countryside of Sonoma County to Point Reyes (the drive to the lighthouse through the park was almost as long as the drive to the park), I this desert imagery contrasted with the fertile landscape of the farms, hills, river, and coastline. There is a hostility to the desert, a place I love but cannot tolerate, physically, for long. Equally remote, I thought I could live in the countryside where the rolling green hills, the trees that remind me to not resist the direction of the wind, and the water all make it easier to breathe.
Not sure where to go with this poem. Maybe I will look at some prompts and hope these contrasts of imagery will come together into something. Maybe I will rewrite the song with a car and the countryside. Maybe I will do the erasure.
Update (two hours later): I went with the map prompt, writing a poem about something I really did not want to dwell on tonight, ending with this:
I wish my mouth as big as the moon
My lips settle for the crumbs of him.