I like the thought of just getting up and going, but in reality, it gives me a bit of a panic attack. Where would I stay, what would I do, when could I get a flight back? (Breathes into paper bag.)
I do see the benefit in getting out of my normal, everyday world, though, and replacing it with a new place and a new perspective. It changes me, cleanses my palette a little bit, and heightens my senses. In fact, every time I come back from a trip, my little poetry notebook is always full of new images and pieces of poems.
So today, I'm posting two poems that came out of a trip Ryan and I made to Italy a few years back. It wasn't spontaneous, but it changed me. And who knows...maybe one day I can pack up and go back.
as the cable car rocked us up
and over the trees, setting us
down on the top of Monte Tamaro.
Thin air pricked our lungs
and the view pierced our eyes--
an azzuro sky laid out and tucked behind
peaks of snow and sun-poked clouds.
Our guide's arm led our sight
up the highest face to a modern church,
its brick frame jutting out in midair.
A spot to fall in love, said the guide.
We stood at the edge, hands hooked.
Under the sky-roof we thought
our prayers could be heard first.
I heard the sun shine in Ravenna.
It mingled with the purr
of bicycle spokes and the flutter
of a wood-dove's wings gliding by.
Un latte, per favore, I asked,
so I could sit awhile, drinking happy,
and wonder where the citizens
of utopia go for vacation.