“If someone is alone reading my poems,
I hope it would be like reading someone's notebook. A record. Of a place,
beauty, difficulty. A familiar daily struggle.” – Fanny Howe
Poet,
novelist, and short story writer, Howe celebrated her 82nd birthday this month.
One of America's most widely read poets, her prose poems, "Everything's
a Fake" and "Doubt,” were selected for the anthology Great
American Prose Poems: from Poe to the Present. And, her poem "Catholic" was
selected for a volume of The Best American Poetry. For Saturday’s Poem, here is Howe’s,
Footsteps
I have
never arrived
into a new life yet.
Have you?
Do you find the squeak
of boots on snow
excruciating?
Have you heard people
say, It wasn't me,
when they accomplished
a great feat?
I have, often.
But rarely.
•
Possibility
is one of the elements.
It keeps things going.
The ferry
with its ratty engine
and exactitude at chugging
into blocks and chains.
Returning as ever
to mother's house
under a salty rain.
into a new life yet.
Have you?
Do you find the squeak
of boots on snow
excruciating?
Have you heard people
say, It wasn't me,
when they accomplished
a great feat?
I have, often.
But rarely.
•
Possibility
is one of the elements.
It keeps things going.
The ferry
with its ratty engine
and exactitude at chugging
into blocks and chains.
Returning as ever
to mother's house
under a salty rain.
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