Free-Range Renga

We will begin with
vers-libre haiku at
five in the morning:

coffee sits, half a pot's worth,
waiting to be drunk. Breakfast

already: cut-up
strawberries and whipped cream on
blueberry waffles.

Quotidian things, every-
day things, sanctify our life.

Rattling off verse as
if it were batting practice
or a foredawn jog:

oh, the athleticism!
the agility! Nimble

lummox me sitting
in pajamas and t-shirt,
how to greet the Muse?

Praise her loveliness as if
she were lissome and twenty.

Amherst, '89,
unrequited love for L.,
vodka, Cocteau Twins:

Jennifer's writing class, the
Ashbery-Merrill reading

in South Hadley, Mass.,
one drizzly November day:
the poets bickered

about the shape and form of
the double sestina. Weird.

I recall loving
the bleak autumnal landscape
of Hampshire College:

I knew someone who went there.
Was it Sarah? I forget.

If I had it to
do over, thank God I don't,
I would go elsewhere:

someplace Catholic, serious,
where students in fact study

instead of drinking
recklessly, insatiably,
every damn weekend.

Sorry for the "damn," Miss Moore:
earmark of incompetence.

Your sage demurral
at the work of Ginsberg: "he
can foul the nest in

a manner to marvel at" ---
who, really, can dispute this?

Today is Thursday:
Walgreens for pills, then Paulist
Centre for noon Mass ---

plus, I should get a card for
Dad's, shall we say, ladyfriend

who was kind enough
to send Sam Cornish's death-

notice. Thoughtful, to

mail me the obituary
of Boston's first laureate.

After all, I claim
to be a poet myself:
a few kindly souls

encourage this tendency,
yes, for better or for worse.

Poetry by Thomas DeFreitas The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 38 times
Written on 2018-08-31 at 06:48

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josephus The PoetBay support member heart!
Thomas, thanks for bringing me along on your day! Thoroughly enjoyable.

Thomas, I enjoy these poems about ordinary life and regrets and memories, and a life so ingrained in literature, friends, family, and church. I can still feel the sadness.

It was a good poem for me to read early this morning.

By the way, I taught for a while at Notre Dame University, in S. Bend, Indiana, very Catholic, and the students in general, except for those becoming priests, were not any more serious and studious than anywhere else. I enjoy your orderly life.