Remember when bathroom doors were out to get me?

I was sitting here, reading The Best of American Poetry 1994 and listening to Ravi Shankur’s Raga Devgiri Bilawal and all of a sudden Mark Doty jumps from the pages and I am changed forever.

I have these unrealistic dreams, and then I realize that the reality is in my words, and that this is my world, such a bright kaleidoscope of nonsense. I am grateful for that tonight. That I can take a poem and pull it inside of me and watch it bloom. Tomorrow as my thumbs stir spines or as I make my next tuna noodle surprise Mark Doty’s words will surprise me.

As most know I have been volunteering at the library, and also trying to find work there too. It’s as close to a home as I’ll ever have. I mostly search for people’s holds, which are books people have ordered on the online website. Every time I volunteer I am blown away by the types of books people check out. The funniest ones from this week? How to enjoy sex in your marriage (I can’t remember the exact name), Welcome to the Jungle: Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About Bipolar but Were Too Freaked Out to Ask, and The Complete Guide to Irish Dance. I had these back to back, so that increased the hilarity. I am not superstitious, but occasionally I like to put my itunes on shuffle, and listen to what the songs tell me, like they are a coded message from some other world. Lately I’ve been doing this with the holds, but in a different way. I’ve been keeping my eyes out for signs. So far, not a gosh darn thing. Obviously.

But right now Secret Garden is on, and the song is Moving, which can only mean that I need to move on, get back to poetry. ; )