by One hundred days. A serious commitment to creating original poetry and art. And in the mix, an eight-day vacation on St. John, one of the beautiful U.S. Virgin Islands. Now, how would island time affect my daily poems?
Learning As I Go
The 100 Day Project — wow. These days have pushed my creative limits. As I’ve said to friends, I had no idea how much my emotions and thoughts would infuse each poem. Wouldn’t you think the existing, originating text would be the primary director and influence?
Well, some days it was. I mean, you can only do so much with a limited group of words.
Other times? Even though I used the same book every day (Artemis by Andy Weir, a science fiction novel set within a futuristic moon colony) and chose pages at random . . . there was my heart, plain to see.
So how would island time affect poems No89 through 97? Would I still find time, even though I was on vacation? What would I write about? How much would St. John affect images and content?
As an experiment, I kept notes. What transpired provided revelations.
Sunday, August 4: “Protection Spell”
News of the August 3, 2019 El Paso terrorist mass murder weighed heavily on my mind. Waiting to board our flight, I read newspaper coverage and scrolled through social media. Traveling from Austin to St. John requires two planes plus a short ferry ride, and I used our first jet leg–some three hours–to create my poem. Heartsick from gun violence and lack of action, I worked dual messages: desperate longing (the poem) and bold warning/request inspired by visual breaks in the page (letters).
Monday, August 5: “Island Ferry”
Oh, there’s nothing like the air in St. John. Flowers, green things, dirt, salt–fragrant smells all carried on a seldom-still sea breeze. Mornings are my favorite time of day, and that’s when I often worked (usually in my pajamas, nestled on the deck overlooking Coral Bay). Riding the ferry from St. Thomas to St. John is a transition to paradise, and “cabin” sent me back. In island decor, pineapples symbolize welcome and hospitality; there was even a tiny one growing in the house garden! As the sun came up that first morning, I was so very, very happy.
Tuesday, August 6: “Caribbean”
I’m an Aquarius, a water baby, with a woo-woo kind of soul. The sea turtles and I bonded over hours at Salt Pond. I’d hovered above, silently watching them. All day, we swam together; we breathed together; we connected. One giant sea turtle, so large she sported two clinging remoras, rose from below. Instinctively, I put out my hand out to keep us from colliding. As she gracefully turned to swim away, my fingers ran down her shell. Those magical moments in that gorgeous blue-green-teal water infused my spirit with peace and wonderment.
Wednesday, August 7: “A Lifetime”
Some days, I woke up well before dawn. I’d sit outside, quietly watching the dark starry night dissolve into bright waking morning. It’s so easy to still mind and body on the island and do nothing but be. Listening to the ever-present wind and waves, reflection and meditation just happen. If I lived here, I wondered, would I be more in tune to nature? Would life be simpler? Could I be happier? So many time-related words on this page.
Thursday, August 8: “Reparations”
Vacation=reading. When we’re at the beach, if I’m not in the water, I’m deep in a book. I’d packed an assortment–historical fiction, memoir, fantasy, poetry–and had just finished reading The Known World, by Edward P. Jones. An incredibly detailed novel about slavery, Jones’ book is populated by richly-drawn characters caught in the poisonous system: black and white slaveowners, enslaved and “free” people, well-meaning (but cluelessly racist) whites, rich and poor families. With the phrase “restitution is in order” on that day’s page, where else could my mind go?
Friday, August 9: “What Goes Around”
On St. John, we generally avoid the news. We don’t watch TV. Picking up a newspaper? Too much effort. Anyway, why disturb paradise with the real world? That morning, however, I mistakenly checked social media. I couldn’t believe how the surviving El Paso shooting victims–including an infant–had been used as publicity props by the very administration whose policies had emboldened the terrorist. I’m not surprised; these daily poems have been a great release of intense emotion–anger, shame, sadness, pride, despair, joy. That day, I seethed with rage. Call this one therapy.
Saturday, August 10: “Flame”
Every so often, it’s not content that provides my creative sparks me, it’s a visual. On this day, the word “blowtorch” really grabbed me. My daughter, Liz, uses a blowtorch to make beautiful silver and stone jewelry, and I love watching videos of her at work. Had I watched one of her Instagram stories? Who knows . . . all I’m certain of is I saw the page first. So I Googled “blowtorch” for an image, and played with placement and design. The words–well, I made them fit the illustration. There’s a lot of satisfaction in having the design turn out just as I envisioned.
Sunday, August 11: “Morning Swim”
Traditionally, we like to end on St. John with a marathon beach day. My favorite place is Francis Bay, and we’d planned our entire last full day there; we’d pack lunches and snacks and stay until the no-see-ums drove us away. That early morning, I felt a combination of utter happiness and terrible sadness–just one more day. Anticipating my last ocean swim, I wanted a poem that captured St. John’s beautiful water and my joy.
Monday, August 12: “Choices”
Travel days are hard. There wasn’t enough time to go to the beach, so we lazily packed and rattled around the house. I’d woken up very early, fretting over leaving, and wound up on Twitter. I’d watched a video of a white politically-conservative mother and daughter explaining why they couldn’t vote for Trump again. They had me thinking about crossroads, the places where decisions must be made, and how these people had taken a new path. I wanted to literally show divergence, so there are three separate tracks that progress in different ways. But they all touch. I chose the words to invoke Robert Frost’s poem, “The Road Not Taken.”
Things I Learned
- Every vacation day had time to make a poem. It’s a habit now.
- Artemis has almost no nature imagery and a very repetitive vocabulary. But that didn’t stop me from writing about nature.
- News worms its way into my creative practice, whether I want it or not. Social media is a mixed bag of frustration and inspiration.
- I brought limited pens, map pencils, and loose pages to keep it light; finished work was pasted into my book at home.
- Worried poems might get lost or damaged in travel, I photographed each finished piece. I figured I could always recreate.
- Google is great for “how to draw . . .” (I have no art training whatsoever). I used images for illustration reference with No90, 91, 92, 93, 94, 95, and 96–in other words, all but “Protection Spell” and “Choices.” Maybe I should take some basic graphic design lessons.
- You can see all 100 of my blackout poems on Instagram at #100dayprojectblackout
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