Ever bookish, it occurred to me that a collection of poetry from the workshop is sitting there waiting to be collected and shared with poetry lovers outside the closed workshop. But, creating a collection would take time and money, both in short supply for the busy poets who participated. I just wish you could read some of them. They're that good.
In the meantime, below is one of my poems from the workshop inspired by the spring planting going on in my garden.
Get Down, Get Dirty
and among cuticles,
between thumb and forefinger that
rub grit, roll clay.
Hand gripping trowel
to trench the earth, happily
chewing up ground,
coffee cup conversing with potting soil,
shovel cuddling rake, ready.
All together now
Be the dirt you are
in the yard,
in the hand,
under the plow,
in the wind with the water, sprinkling
rivulets down your back.
If he was here, we’d be dirty as
We’d roll in the furrows and mounds.
Hot, gritty sex, sex, while neighbors steal peeks with permission
prurient faces pressed to fence boards
eyeing through the cracks.
Roll on prickly grass.