This poem, from David Rivard's fifth book, Otherwise Elsewhere, sums up how I start to feel ( as a green midge/ or/ as a pine tree) on book tours.
In Quebec, en route home to Maine, after reading in Montreal. |
NOTE
TO MYSELF
Having
survived self-
esteem
(both low & high), like
surfacing
out
of a to-do
list
for civil war
in
the heart—
Having
been
a back-stabber (when said
back
was my own) or
lucky
Darwinian
holder
of
the
Ace of Spades,
in
my mind—
Getting
to see myself
as a
green midge
or
as a
pine tree looming like
a
fetching samurai
at
the edge
of a
meadow—I get a little
tired--&
strangely
everywhere
I go
seems
one
step
closer to wherever I
thought
I
was when I left
for
wherever
I
wanted to be.
Given
the round
ranginess
of earth, always
thinking
of myself—
that’s
it for me, tho. Enough. No
more,
thank you. No, really.
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