After Schuyler

Today’s prompt was to take inspiration from the poems of James Shuyler.  What interested me in his biography was that he seems to have come to poetry at mid-life – that period of upheaval given a rather contemptuous rap by common culture in the US, but lauded by Karl Jung as a time when one becomes interested in promoting hithertofore more hidden aspects of one’s personality.  I’ve always loved coming-of-age stories, but now that I’m an elder, their scope has expanded from moving-out-of-childhood (though these continue to be favorites) to include the other major passages that time brings one.

I always appreciate Maureen Thorson’s prompts because she offers a net of connections that tempt me gently out of my own style rather than forcing me out of the corral with a whack.

My Studio


Perhaps, I take comfort in clutter.

Not consciously (I lately read somebody’s

famous quote – how the light of consciousness

overcomes darkness below), I don’t decide

to kick aside the eclectic pile of books:

Webster’s Dictionary,

Jung on Symbols,

The Magpie Murders,

A Field Guide to Demons,

heaped beside my bedside, or sweep

that pile of papers onto the floor

attempting to catch an overturned cup

of hazelnut decaf coffee gone cold.

I choose to leave them there, it’s true.

Better things to do, like finish

composing this &%!@* poem – syntax

so elusive, I fling out my arms

in vexation, – hence  cup,  coffee,

 catastrophic clutter.

It’s getting out of hand.

P.S. I dote on darkness.

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