Celebrating Living Poets: Kate Baer

She’s a poet with a playlist for everything. She finds messages of wisdom in her hate mail replies and turns it into found poetry. She’s a mother, a wife, and a writer, and she’ll make you stop and think. The living poet I’m celebrating today is Kate Baer, who was first recommended to me by my friend and small group writing buddy Glenda Funk. I started with her collection I Hope This Finds You Well and then read all the others, and I’m anxiously awaiting whatever comes next. Hers are dessert poems with a bit of a sharp kick, like a tangy lemon tart or a bowl of the sweetest watermelon sprinkled with Tajin. It hits you square in the womanhood solidarity in its delicious aftertaste.

You can read more about Kate Baer here. Be sure to scroll down deep enough in the article to listen to her playlists – they’re all linked, and I leave her writing playlist on repeat whether I’m writing or working in my cubicle with my noise-cancelling headphones (perfect for when a colleague is making a phone call or having a conversation).

Advice on writing from Kate can be found here. Another interview here.

Snapshot

The moment before the photograph

you turn and lift your face

in the blue eye of winter

fat with love, drunk with adoration

eyes up, arms out

walk out into the evening and sing

no music. Just the world and all its noise. You.

I never wanted anything more than you.

Taken from: The Bridesmaid’s Song; After; Today; Grown Alice; Undivided Attention; The Protagonist Remembers; How it Will Happen; For My Son on His 13th Birthday.

Poets for Days 11-20
Another Sneak Peek of what has been and what’s to come…..

A Blackout Poem

I enjoy finding poems. They lurk in the pages of print and mostly go unnoticed – until they’re “found,” and some can take the form of Blackout poetry. Here is one from the pages of Remarkably Bright Creatures by Shelby Van Pelt.

Hazardous Situation

hazardous situation sucks ~

a stepladder

snipped-off stems

purple flowers

ladder

snakes

gloves……

…..there’s your answer:

not even

the thought of booze

(this poem was found on page 30 of Shelby Van Pelt’s Remarkably Bright Creatures)

Book Snack: Home for Christmas


For as many years back as I can remember, Dad gave me a box of books he’d carefully curated for my reading tastes at Christmas. Sometimes I read them, liked them, and kept them, but at the first sign of silverfish or whiff of mold, I disposed of them. Over time, even the once treasured collection took over my reading room that sits just off my bedroom – because there were simply too many to manage – and I had to start donating them to other causes. I’ve winnowed the collection down to a manageable lot – one where I know what is here and one that allows me to pull a book or two and snack on its delightful pages.

Christmas is the most enjoyable time of the year for me to thumb through books and hang on lines. Home for Christmas by Lloyd C. Douglas is one I chose for today, and I’ve included photos of the front and back covers of the book along with the inscription. This was a gift to Helen Ann Footit from Mark E. Merrifield for Christmas in 1938 after its first printing in 1935. It’s a gift to hold a piece of living history and wonder about the person who first opened it, and whose eyes have swept the pages, whose fingers have graced the words, and where they laughed. I wonder about the nature of the gift and the relationship of the giver and recipient. Was this an uncle and niece? a man courting a young woman? What is meant by “The Erdmans?”

Merry Christmas! I hope your day holds all the peace and joy of this special time of year.

From this book, I collected the words and phrases that make me think of Christmases past, in the old days, long before I was born, around the time my grandparents were young. I arranged them into a found poem. These lines bring images that cheer my heart and warm my spirit. I hope they do yours, too.

Home For Christmas: A Found Poem

leisurely breakfast

a path to the barn and one dim light in the kitchen window

ancient stock of baubles for the Christmas tree

rummaging in the capacious depths of a cupboard-shelf

arms and hands full of swagger baggage

a parcel of miscellaneous trinkets

paths that lead toward brighter light

the aromatic warmth of the spacious living room

a voluminous and truculent torrent of gabble

lingering by the fireplace

rows of red candles that gleam from every window

the tinkle of sleigh-bells

a sound of footsteps on the stairs

now wouldn’t that be jolly?

Here is an actual page containing a line I took for the found poem today, photo marked-up in green