Tuesday, April 25, 2006


Here is a LangPo inspired sentimental mommy poem - an oxymoron you say? Perhaps. At the Rosmarie Waldrop reading last Saturday (the last in this years Desert City series), I noticed the phrase "that is to say" sprinkled throughout her work. I was enthralled with Rosmarie's reading and began to "get it." She balanced narrative (no not the "I"!) with word architecture and play. I am in no way comparing myself with Rosmarie with the following attempt, that is to say, I really don't "get it," that is to say, oh hell, here's the poem:

this is to say
J.B. Rowell

i miss my babies
my babies are not here
that is to say
i am not there
my babies are
at school then
strapped in car seats
then sink hands
in mud
wash hands
eat bathe & sleep

my babies are not
babies: 3 & 6
growing bodies grow
nightly soul
expands pushes
inside fingertips that
push toward &
reach away

that is to say
my babies are older
& i am the one
their one
with answers
or rather none
my babies are old
souls and i
grow young
younger & shrink

this is to say
no choice for right
or wrong
home or work
just missing babies
i missed


Blogger Lae said...

I enjoyed this
that is to say
I can so relate

1:55 AM, April 26, 2006  
Blogger J.B. Rowell said...

Thanks Lae

7:07 AM, April 26, 2006  
Blogger Pat Paulk said...

Love the rhythm, the growing and growing away. Excellent poem!!

11:34 AM, May 01, 2006  
Blogger J.B. Rowell said...

Thanks Pat - love your new pic. - very dapper!

6:54 AM, May 02, 2006  
Blogger didi said...

Hello - We (The Goodnight Show) need this piece recorded including the commentary at the beginning.

Thank you,

5:04 AM, May 06, 2006  
Blogger J.B. Rowell said...

Great Didi - will do!

7:57 AM, May 06, 2006  

Post a Comment

Links to this post:

Create a Link

<< Home