At the Lumberyard

Waiting in the car while my husband ran in to ask a couple of questions, I jotted a few lines that later turned into this:

Dead Wood
By Sally Zakariya

In the parking lot behind the lumber yard
the buzz saw’s whining diva
sings its swooping song
cut wood bleeds sawdust
a sharp smell

 I list the living trees that rim the lot
tulip poplar . . . locust . . . beech
brash bamboo crowding in
its blade leaves shining green

Inside you talk about board feet
and rot resistance
and do you deliver
while somewhere trees are cut
down for us

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Op-Ed Poetry?

You read that right. When the Los Angeles Times asked for some of the above, the editors heard from 1,500 poets and would-be poets. Read the resulting “Rhyme and Reason” here. Washington Post, New York Times, are you listening?

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Conversation with a Poet

In response to our last post, Canadian poet Kevin Taylor writes that when he tells anyone he’s a poet—“which I do every day”—the conversation goes something like this:

Q. What are your poems about?
A: Life. From a spirit’s point of view.
Q: Do they rhyme?
A: About half and half. Something for everyone.
Q: I used to write poems when I was a teenager.
A: Great! I'd love to see them.

And then, Taylor says, people usually get interested, and the conversation continues. “What kind of poems do you write?” they ask. Kevin’s answer: “Well, what do you like?” And then he quotes one of his poems that he thinks matches their preference. (You can see some of Kevin’s poetry here.)