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Here is a link to my moleskin journal! Sorry it's a bit late.
-Chloe

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POEM 1/ March 30 I tie my Hat — I crease my Shawl — Life's little duties do — precisely — As the very least Were infinite — to me — I put new Blossoms in the Glass — And throw the old — away — I push a petal from my Gown That anchored there — I weigh The time 'twill be till six o'clock I have so much to do — And yet — Existence — some way back — Stopped — struck — my ticking — through — We cannot put Ourself away As a completed Man Or Woman — When the Errand's done We came to Flesh — upon — There may be — Miles on Miles of Nought — Of Action — sicker far — To simulate — is stinging work — To cover what we are From Science — and from Surgery — Too Telescopic Eyes To bear on us unshaded — For their — sake — not for Ours — 'Twould start them — We — could tremble — But since we got a Bomb — And held it in our Bosom — Nay — Hold it — it is calm — Therefore — we do life's labor — Though life's Reward — be done — With scrupulous exactness — To hold our Se...
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Poem-A-Day/April 16 https://poets.org/poem/fish-1 *** Read this poem aloud. Read it slowly, savoring every phrase. Note how it deepens and we move forward, its own tentative journey into darkness and fear and even (amazingly) "injury" and "abuse--revealing, along the way, magnificent life forms. You may (Moore will permit it, though probably wouldn't agree) see this as a poem about the self as it accumulates hurts, physical and emotional scars (whether from accident, or from intentional harm, by oneself of by others); and about how landscapes and bodies reveal past traumas.
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Poem-A-Day/April 15 (Johnson 759) He fought like those Who've nought to lose — Bestowed Himself to Balls As One who for a further Life Had not a further Use — Invited Death — with bold attempt — But Death was Coy of Him As Other Men, were Coy of Death — To Him — to live — was Doom — His Comrades, shifted like the Flakes When Gusts reverse the Snow — But He — was left alive Because Of Greediness to die — ** Again we find ED wringing out of a "public" theme her own view, her own terms. Compare this personification of death with the very famous poem, "Because I could not stop for death" (Johnson 712)--there, Death is a bold and suave courtier, arriving to pick up his date; here, the gendered term "coy" might imply that death is a young woman, though "other men" are here, somewhat surprisingly, said to be "coy" as well.  The final stanza has so many echoes of other ED poems. "For I have but the power to live/Without the p...
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