Earlier, Sara and I started playing disc golf, back 9 first, she got two 4s (good for her!) and I got a par and a birdie. Woah. Then, it rained on our heads and we ran through it and I was soaked. Tomorrow, I'm going with some dudes I know and some dudes I don't know (hope they aren't lame!) to some courses in Indy.
A Short Letter To Amanda Sabo:
We were neighbors for like 9 months or something and only knew it (and each other) for like two of them. That sucks. I always thought, man I wish cool people lived in this apartment complex like within yelling distance. Guess what? Cool people lived in this apartment complex like within yelling distance. Like you! My wife would have loved it if it didn't take us so long to figure this out. Thanks for the strawberry shortcake today. It was delicious. We will visit soon, probably. I'll keep Jeremy busy, getting buff and stuff. Maybe.
A Short Letter To Amber Sabo:
I just got done telling your sister, in another short letter, how I wish I wasn't so blind and befriended cool people (like you!) in this apartment complex sooner. I thought you hated me at first. I can understand that. Now, I don't think you hate me. Sometimes, I just think you are scared of people and talking. Hey, I'm scared of the same things! You are a nice person, and I hope to see you more in the future.
P.S. Our last talk on my porch (when we discovered the beehive!) was cool!
Peter Orlovsky, poet and Ginsberg's partner, died apparently.
I finished the selected Odes of Pablo Neruda yesterday. This whole experience of discovering Neruda, reading some of his love poem, now reading the Odes has been killer. The passion in most of these odes, the focus, the emotion astounds me. I read Sara one called "Ode to a Woman Gardening" while she was planting flowers. I read "Ode to Bees" shortly after killer my first beehive. There is even one called "Ode to Bicycles." I read it every time I ride my bike. That last part is not true.
Here is the beginning of "Ode to a Large Tuna in the Market:"
Among the market greens,
from the ocean
I saw you,
All around you
of the earth,
of the ocean
of the unknown,
of the sea,
only you had survived,
a pitch-black, varnished
to deepest night.
This form is one that intrigues me. Like how emotion is pushed through it. But also, does it count on a line like "of the" too much?
I know though that I want to write with this much care and focus!
Speaking of care, I care a great deal about my poetry internship at The Collagist. My fourth and final interview of the month went up today with the fantastic Carroll Beauvais. Read the poem then the interview.
I can't get enough of talking to writers, musicians, welders, people. People are doing things and it is so exciting!