Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
First to my professor, the one with the raven tattoo and the combat boots and the Vanity Fair centerfold, for letting me in on the secret. To the Poet Laureate of North Carolina for the sounds that found an entrance in my skin and an exit like a bullet through my brain. To the beekeeper, kind in her acceptance of my awe-struck praise at 7 a.m. To the girl whose little boy told me that ghosts are real, yes, and that they live in the echoes of your voice as you speak. To my perfectly coiffed and dressed suite-mate who secretly plays heavy metal guitar in her garage. To zee wango AND zee tango. To the honey-voiced novelist who shared her cigarettes and her beautifully twisted mind. To the poet who drinks only champagne. To the poet who made me gasp out loud. To the poet who offered up his ice cream cone and played my favorite song on ukulele. To the woman with the really-real, truly-true, secret identity that I now have the privilege of knowing.
To my wonderful, surprising large group: the hero with bluegrass in his throat, the yogi spinning gloriously in her monomyth, the neon-bright, sparkling, kind-eyed girl who stood with me by the fire — and to my small group: the Badass and the Lady – you know which ones you are, even if the titles might switch around from time to time. (No chickens or forest rangers were harmed in the making of this group). To my gentle group leader for sharing something that allowed me write a string of words I had never dared write before, not even once, in my life. To Nick Flynn for writing the poem ‘Bag of Mice’. To the girl who went commando with me near the end.
I feel like Dorothy when she wakes up after leaving Oz and returns to the world of black and white: “But it wasn’t a dream. It was a place. And you and you and you were there…”
What a strange, strange place; what a miracle we all made.
Dreaming of January.
MP3: Saint Motel – 1997
You can pre-order Saint Motel’s shimmery new album, Voyeur, here.
posted by rikki, who won’t stay away so long next time.