This Labor Day weekend I share a poem and remember one of the more unusual gigs I was offered. The parade was going to be canceled that year due to no organizer. A non-profit decided to organize it at the last moment. However, the regular, seasoned professional female host was out of the country. The city needed a female host— immediately. Could I messure up to the task?
Author Archives: Shannon Laws
Poem: Cherry Tree Roots
It would be nice
to pluck that word
stuck in the slit
betwixt my teeth
tongue plays at it
floss won’t reach it
those words
I’m sorry
Poem: Castaway
Morning glows gently
through her Texas accent
It’s about to rain in Seattle
Clouds dark-gray-pregnant with drops
hover over Yesler Way
Poem: Body of Wood
Here is another poem in my series “Unpublished”. These are poems that have never been published and I will probably never publish. They don’t appear to have what it takes for one reason or another. However, they are special to me. Perhaps marking a unique event or moment of realization.
commute
Here is the poem that came out of that experience. The poem will never be submitted for publication. It is fluid thought, free range while it captures a moment in my life when I sat among them.
Master of Disguise
At the same time, what I can only imagine is a full-out attack from the Nigerian scammer army, I began to get 6-8 chat requests from people unknown to me a day. Men, really good-looking, age-appropriate men attempted to chat me up. How nice. It must be my new night cream. A response gives the stranger access to your account. In other words, you are in a fortified castle and lowering the gate, inviting the enemy to come in for a sitdown and biscuits.
Eyes Open
One night after the open mic, we took note and began to speculate who these mysterious people could be. What was their story? Did they know each other? Were they once married? My favorite theory was it was God, curious about the Bellingham Poetry scene.
Poem: Long Kiss Goodbye
I see a fish on a platter
in the center of my table
garnished with onions, lemons
a cut of dill and salt
The first cut into its flakey flesh,
soft bones gently come out from hiding
between the sedimentary chunks
and gems of peppercorn
Nosy Nostalgia
Typically I would find a booth, and hang out with a book, notepaper, and pen. Read, eat, and write. …and listen. My confession to the faithful 67 followers, I am nosy. I enjoy listening to the way people talk to each other, the rhythms, the tone. Two poems came out of this “hobby”. I’d like to share them with you today.
WWU’s “The Front” Interviews Corridor
“That’s such a noble idea,” said Ashok Bhargava, a contributor to Corridor who is the poet laureate of the Philippines, has published eight books of poetry in Hindi and English, and founded Writers International Network Canada and World Peace Poets.
“It touched me that we don’t have to be sitting in New York or Toronto to do those things. We could be in a small town and we can connect with community,” Bhargava said.
At the start, only a handful of artists submitted to Corridor. But after the 13-month-long project was complete, the zine had garnered the work of 27 poets and five artists.
Over the course of the project, encouragement from the community grew.