Barb Edler of Iowa is our host today for the 13th day of #VerseLove2024, inspiring us to use a brain dump process to craft a poem. You can read her full prompt and the poems and comments of others here.
My role as the District Literacy Specialist for Pike County Schools in Georgia involves utilizing grant funds to create Literacy events to ignite reading and writing passion in our schools and throughout our community. When my soul sister Fran Haley of North Carolina posted about The Poetry Fox visiting her school years ago, I tucked that thought away as a dream to bring him from her school event in Zebulon, North Carolina to our coffee shop in Zebulon, Georgia to work his magic, sitting at his table in a fox suit, pounding out poems on his vintage typewriter for folks who stand in line to offer him their word.
He made that 7 hour trip this week from his home in Durham, NC and produced nearly 60 poems between 3:00 and 6:15, delighting people of all ages and from all walks of life – funeral directors who gave the words tears and gravestones, a pilot who offered the word sky, children who offered all sorts of words from monster truck to axolotl, teenagers who brought the words hooligan and baseball, and a librarian who brought the word library – and so many more! I’ve included the list of words in a photo at the bottom of this post. My words were royal fortress meadow since my name, Kimberly, means from the royal fortress meadow.
After three hours of writing poems, he packed up his fox suit and walked down to the barbecue restaurant on our town square and had a barbecue sandwich, baked beans, and banana pudding with me. When we returned at 7:00, he shared a delightful hour telling us about who he is, what he does, and how he came to do it. Beyond watching him work, there is as much amazement in the person of Chris Vitiello as there is the jaw-dropping magic of….
The Poetry Fox!
I. The Suit
there must have been
some magic in that old
fox suit they found
for when he placed it
on his head
keys began to dance around
to swirl up typewriter dust
conjuring the memories
reaching deep for connections
once forgotten, resurrected now
in the deep recesses of minds
and souls
the piercings of heartstrings by
moments of life
summoning past
awakening present
cultivating future
pounded out with two fingers
often superglued for
tenderness support
a suit ~
left behind, abandoned, forgotten
given as a gift by a
friend who knew the quirky depths
of brilliance in THE one who would
wear it best
II. The Roots
because as a kid
he read newspapers
enjoyed the flapping of paper
and the words they held, and
this future fox word volleyed
(forget board games – he played word games)
with friends
to build schema
set egg timers and each wrote 5 poems
all about one word
that had to be different from any other
with his knees against a heater
where his desk sat
the heat rising as the breath
of a boy who would someday
write to the tune of sweat
in a toasty fox costume
III. The Pursuit
and every day live out
his dream of writing
his love of meaning
his incessant hunger
for the exchange of words
for the gift of poetry
this soul-spark of wonder
when words touch places
long ignored
and breath catches
and tears well and spill
and loved ones lost return, smiling
between the lines
and children laugh
because the clever fox
explains in all logic
through poetry
that people don’t
make monster trucks ~
monsters do
and people aren’t the
only ones who write poems
foxes do, too
Common Threads 