Most of the items for our poetry museum (planned opening–September 2012: stay tuned) could probably come from my house. I’ve been wandering around lately looking through old notebooks (I have way too many of them) and inside dusty suitcases and boxes and under beds and such and keep finding poetry. Go try it yourself–inside your closet, in the kitchen junk drawer, mixed with the dryer lint . . . I know you have some poetry.
It might be traditional, like the paper I found folded inside a notebook that had a Luke haiku on it. It might be less traditional like the drawing of a car that Luke also made for me. On the other side of the paper I wrote: “Apr. 21, 2003. When my car blew up and I came home depressed, Luke drew this and said, Here’s your new car.”
I have notebooks full of random lines. On some I wish I had written more context (and the date) so I would remember more about the occasion. But then, a little of the poetry probably disappears when too much explanation precedes the lines. It’s enough just to know that “The calculator has a rose in it” and “The hamburger is in the laundry room.” What more does anyone need?
I can still picture the fall day when Josh and Luke were playing in the leaves in the front yard. When Josh said, “Help me! He’s been thinking again,” I knew exactly what he meant. Then and now. Poetry is everywhere in our lives. The trick is to slow down enough to appreciate it. Then and now.