Toast No. 2

Poem No. 131

Last week I shared a poem written the day Petra gifted me a new pencil. A subsequent conversation in Substack Notes, with David Donoghue, reminded me that I failed to mention two pertinent facts about Pencil.

The first is that Pencil is alive and doing well. (Thank you for asking, David.) The second is that Pencil — in addition to writing poetry — sometimes also makes art:

“paragraph 3”, 2021 — pencil and conté crayon, by Pencil (with a little help from me…)

In my visual art practice nearly all of my work is done in series, where I return again and again to re-explore not only the same few thematic elements, but the same literal building blocks.

The image here is number three in a series I call “paragraphs”, in which impossible geometries are commingled with scribbles that refuse to coalesce into coherent writing. (Yes, yes, plenty to unpack there for a poet who sometimes struggles with words. 😂) The pieces are created improvisationally, usually within the space of a song or two. There are twenty-some works in the “paragraphs” series now, and I — quite happily — don’t see an end in sight.

I’ve written before about how I sometimes repeat myself in poetry, meaning that I may return to similar themes or images in subsequent poems, coming at them from a different angle. Today I thought we’d touch on a similar but inverse topic: the poetic series, in which different themes or images are approached from the same angle.

Today’s poem is technically untitled, but in my poetry journal it has the heading “Toast No. 2”. That’s because there are other poems in my journal labelled “Toast No. …something”. They are part of a series that uses the structure of a party toast — standing with an outstretched glass of champagne and offering well-wishes upon someone or something — to call attention to oft-ignored, un-celebrated things.

Today’s Toast is offered to anyone who has ever made art while in pain:

---

---

Untitled

I raise my glass to anyone
who reaches through
the shattered window

of their own broken heart
to coax new art
into the world.

---

---

If today’s poem inspires you to write your own poetic toast, I would love to read it.

Thanks, as always, for reading and sharing.
~ A

P.S. — The Scribble & Jot passed 150 subscribers this week, which is very exciting. I am terrible at all things marketing and social media, so that growth is almost entirely thanks to all of you, sharing and promoting the poems and posts you enjoy. Thank you all. I so appreciate it. 🙏

---

If you enjoyed this poem, please like, share, comment, and/or subscribe, all of which help to promote my work:

Or, for just $1, you can always:

---