House of the Tomato

If a woman wants to be a poet, she must dwell in the house of the tomato. -- Erica Jong

Regional website for the Wisconsin Fellowship of Poets, in partnership with the Reader's Loft.

GREEN BAY / NORTHEAST

Celebrating, sharing and inspiring poetry throughout Wisconsin.

wil / der / ment

My dreamworld has gotten strange, so I’ve started up a few dictionary poems again. Let me know what you think.

wil / der / ment

: I must allow for disorientation.

: It's more than misplaced.

: A shudder perhaps. Seismic.
-- My axis regular disturbed.

: I suspect the world upside down. Or sideways.
Or strange.

: An enduring sense of feetlessness.

: The skitter of crumpled paper across a driveway.

: A creaking sign, blotch of rust in the shape of a crescent moon.

: I journal about the accidental details.

: It's a miracle I get anywhere, let alone on time.
Or relatively on time.

: Dislocation is what I do. I get lost. Every. Livelong. Day.

: Sometimes it makes me angry.
I know it enraged my children.

: Why can't you just take us there?
Why is it even a question?

: Why indeed.

: The turning around from the very beginning.

: Misplaced in the Kentucky Blue like a toadstool.
Living leaves of grass unexpecting my toddler feet.

: My mother liked to climb trees.

: I learn on Instant Messenger from a cousin
who'd only learned she'd died.

: My father cries when he reads the exchange on my phone.

: Phone GPS is the best thing to happen to me.

: The climbing of trees requires a certain willingness
to unmoor.

: It was a lunar adventure with my mother, too.
Often we never got to our destination.

: GPS stands for global positioning system.
Information about us is sent to an orbiting satellite.

: The satellite signals back,
impartial to whether we're upright or swinging by our feet.

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