Thankful Thursday: With Love

It’s a trifecta: Thankful Thursday, Poem In Your Pocket Day, and the last day of National Poetry Month.

Let’s wrap this month up with a bit of love. Not the gushy proclamations but the sincere appreciations that keep daily life humming.

Have you read the Love Poem to Taco Bell? It’s starts like this:

Full-on, no bullshit, no irony, yes Taco Bell 
where I can almost always pull together the 
cash to get dinner, at my brokest 
scrounging up enough change  
for the pillowy warmth of a bean burrito

This gem is by Rebecca Bornstein of Portland, Oregon. Recently featured on poets.org, the poem is making the rounds because it is good, real, and relatable.

Life is full of everyday people, places and things that deserve our attention. May we all be Pablo Neruda, who wrote more than 200 odes that honor ordinary objects, including socks, tuna, tomatoes. His book, Odes to Common Things is a delight.

Love poems, also called odes, are both fun to read and to write.

In the spirit of paying attention, let’s mark this Thankful Thursday by elevating the everyday. Adoration is just appreciation turned up a notch. What are you thankful for today? Go ahead, give it some love.

In the Wild

The 2026 Indian Creek Trail Poetry Walk features 20 poems placed along a walking path in Hood River, Oregon.

On a bus. In a laundromat. Along a sidewalk or an alley.

Let’s get poetry out of the books and into the world!

* * *

Long an advocate for poetry-in-public, I’ve cheered on writers and artists taking poetry to the streets:

In Arizona, Shawnte Orion hosts poetry readings in laundromats, bars, and abandoned buildings.

In Washington, Paul Nelson invites people to share poetry on postcards and in museums.

In New Mexico, Dale Harris and Scott Wiggerman host the Poets’ Picnic, an annual event that features haiku-style poems written on brown paper tags and hung from trees.

In Colorado, an artist partners with a poet to create bold murals in downtown Denver.

And in almost every city, street poets are producing on-the-spot poems in old-fashioned handwriting or with creaky typewriters.

* * *

Poetry is too wide and wonderful to grow stale in dusty books that few may crack.

Open the doors! Let poetry in — or, rather, out!

* * *

Take a walk with me.

I want to share my latest poetry-in-public project: The 2026 Indian Creek Trail Poetry Walk.

The Walk features 20 poems placed along a four-mile walking path traversing the town of Hood River, Oregon.

The poems were added to the trail in April to celebrate National Poetry Month and will remain for six months. Poems are written by Columbia River Gorge poets and are accompanied by images from area photographers.

Now in its second year, the Poetry Walk is a unique collaboration between Hood River County Library District and Hood River Valley Parks and Recreation District.

You can view the poems, poets, photos, and map here.

* * *

In the spirit of poem-hunting, I’m thrilled to hear the new initiative from Oregon’s Poet Laureate.

Ellen Waterston, who was recently appointed to a second two-year term, wants to see public display of poems — from permanent art installations to poetry walks — in communities across the state.

The effort, called P!PP (Poetry in Public Places), is a celebration of poetry and, she says, “underscores what an accessible and durable art form poetry is.”

Write on!

* * *

Are you spotting poetry in public? Or placing poems in the wild?

I’d love to hear from you. Write to me!

Artist Tracy Weil partnered with Poet Drew Myron for this 2020 mural as part of Crush Walls Urban Street Art Festival in Denver, Colorado.

Detail of mural in Denver, Colorado. Created in 2020, during the covid pandemic.

Thankful Thursday: The Relief of Good Writing

How did I miss this powerful show? 

I’m strongly against trauma packaged for entertainment so I was relieved and pleased to discover that Unbelievable is not at all what I expected. Based on true events, this 2019 drama prizes victim experience over voyeurism. 

The eight-part series, based on the Pulitzer Prize-winning piece An Unbelievable Story of Rape, is written by established novelists Michael Chabon, Ayelet Waldman and screenwriter Susannah Grant — and it shows. The writing is real, and the work comes to life with actors Toni Collette, Merritt Wever, Kaitlyn Dever, and Danielle Macdonald.

Writers T. Christian Miller and Ken Armstrong, of ProPublica, were awarded the Pulitzer Prize for Explanatory Reporting for their “examination and exposé of law enforcement's enduring failures” in the rape investigations. Their work was featured on This American Life, and created the foundation for the Netflix docuseries.

I offer details of the story behind the show because good writing matters. Writing, when it is solid, strong, nuanced, complex and clear, forms the basis for understanding, for empathy and illumination, for real and systemic change.

Because so much of our televised entertainment is now broad sweeps for easy laughs or airbrushed perfection that makes everyone too good, too bad, too beautiful, it’s a relief to stumble upon subtlety and complication. I rally for good writing because it creates resonance, which creates trust, which creates connection and understanding.

And yet good writing is rare. I can count on one hand television shows with writing (and acting) that elevates and resonates; The Wire and Treme, both by journalist-turned-screenwriter David Simon, will always top my list.

On this Thankful Thursday, I’m thankful for art that addresses and reveals, and for good writing, directing, and acting.

Please join me in Thankful Thursday, a weekly pause to express appreciation for people, places, things — big or small, pea-sized or profound. 

What are you thankful for today?

Time to Shine

It’s April and the world is bursting with poems. National Poetry Month is here with 30 days of fever, fervor, pressure and pleasure.

It’s like prom for poets. Everyone trying hard to have fun. Already, I’ve attended two poetry readings and a writing workshop. I’m both dizzy and delighted.

Launched in 1996 by the Academy of American Poets, National Poetry Month is celebrating its 30th anniversary with special literary activities and events in communities across the country.

Here’s how you’ll find me spreading poetry cheer:

Poem in Your Pocket Day
The idea is simple: select a poem you love (or write your own), carry it with you, then share it with family, friends, neighbors, and strangers. This year, Poem in Your Pocket Day is on April 30, 2026.

Put Poems in Unexpected Places
Some of my favorite spots: bathroom stalls, community bulletin boards, slipped between pages of library books. A friend hangs poems from tree branches. Another places them in shopping carts.

Write a Letter to a Poet
Have a favorite poet? Or a book of poems you love? Write a letter to the author expressing your appreciation.

Memorize a Poem
Copying or reciting a poem — my own or another’s— helps me experience a poem more deeply. With the concentration repetition requires, I more fully “wear” the poem and feel its cadence and language.

Find (Unexpected) Poems
Found poetry is waiting for you to discover its beauty. Write a Blackout Poem, a Headline Poem, or patch together a Cut-Up Poem.

Register Now for Poetry Postcard Fest
This annual event is a fun way to write & receive postcard-sized poems from writers across the nation. The exchange begins in July.

There’s no shortage of ways to celebrate this month: attend a reading, join a writing group (or start one), buy (or borrow) a book of poems, or . . . write a poem (or 30)!

“I want a passion that grows and grows,” writes U.S. Poet Laureate Arthur Sze, the first Asian American to serve in the role. “To feel, think, act, and be defined by your actions, thoughts, feelings.”

And you — what poetic action will you take this month?

On Sunday: Stay Tender

This week, against the swirl of violence and dread, I am reminded (again) to pause.

In The Peace of Wild Things, Wendell Berry urges us to find a center and stay tender. Though written in 1968, with the backdrop of Vietnam, the poem holds power and resonance today.

Have we ever not needed sanctuary?

Here we are again.

Through bombs and invasion, through scattering and squall, let us hold steady. Let’s keep making: poems, painting, pottery, pie, stories, songs, soup . . . it’s what we know and can hold. It’s what can get us through.

With a nod to Berry, here’s my own wild peace:

STAY TENDER

 
Once or twice or ten times, in a tangle

of blackberries, my body deep in brush,

arms scratched and bleeding,

I have found sweetness

in the wild things.

This world, untamed and sometimes cruel,

can surprise with a blessing of unexpected beauty.

On a trail deep into desert

I have met an emptiness

so full everything else falls away.

In the cardón cactus holding old stories.

In the mesquite tree with deep roots and tiny thorns.

In the thistle and gnarl of a barren land quiet and alive.

It is a grace given, I think, to enter these wild places.

And if we are careful, it is a tenderness we take with us

when we return to the world that roars.

Against rushing needs and coarse demands,

I carry with me the memory of suncup,

the bright yellow flowers dotting

our dry heat-beaten earth.

— Drew Myron

Thankful Thursday: Ritual

Is this a sign of the times, or just good advertising? A papeleria in Loreto, Mexico offers a choice: paper or scissors, with a serving of nice.

RITUALS TO BELIEVE IN

I do believe in the ritual.

— Linda Gregg, from The Light Continues

Wake slow.

Give thanks.

Drink coffee.

Make a list.

Nod to neighbors

and strangers too.

Open a door.

Say please often,

thank you more.

Share a meal.

At night in the

slow drift to sleep

see the faces of

those you love

and let that love

be balm,

be action,

be prayer.

— Drew Myron

It’s Thankful Thursday, a weekly pause to express appreciation for people, places, things, and more. Attention attracts gratitude and gratitude expands joy.

We need some joy, don’t we? A world at war. Calculated violence, random cruelty, economic uncertainty. Every moment seems escalation of another crisis.

How to handle the erosion of equanimity? I don’t know. Hope, prayer, art? I can’t, won’t, tune out the news and noise but I do look for a counter to the crush of negativity. I look for the good.

That’s the heart of gratitude.

“The most valuable thing to me in terms of my mental health,” says Charlie Kaufman,* my favorite film director, “is to read a poem or see a painting or listen to music which speaks to me, which breaks me open for a moment.”

Sometimes that moment is a mural spotted in a busy city. Or the sound of children singing as you walk by a school. Or church bells ringing. Or a hot coffee at your favorite cafe. Or a clean canvas, a fresh journal, a mound of clay.

The world is full of small moments. Seek and hold. Find the good.

Please join me.

What are you thankful for today?

* Charlie Kaufman is the director of Being John Malkovich, Adaptation, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Synedoche, New York, Firefly (with poet Eva H.D.), and (my personal favorite) I'm Thinking of Ending Things.

 * * *

The world turns on words. Thank you for reading & writing.

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On Sunday: Enough

ENOUGH

Enough of moon

crescent, full, ebbing, blue.

And lavender bending toward light.

And wood floors creaking, and old doors and

new doors, all that opening and closing.

Let’s not talk of mothers

and daughters and complicated love.

Enough of cancer and heart attack and heartbreak.

Everyone is dying. Too quick or slow.

I am trying to live against these odds.

Enough of the stumbles, the splinters, the gravel roads.

No more sad eyes and sorrows. No more longing.

For years I’ve written the same poem.

Please pass the answers to the test

I keep taking and failing and taking again.

Wait. Stop.

Tell me about the mechanics of love,

the steps required to build a good view.

Explain electricity as I stand alone in a storm

waiting for lightning to strike.

Listen, you whisper,

and point to the sky.

The owl mates for life.

Tell me again about the ancient bird calling into the dark.

The world is cruel and there is not enough love.

But there is a moon, I’m sure, in a dusky sky

and a slight breeze to soften my ragged edge.

Tell me everything. I want to hear it all.

— Drew Myron

* * *

The world turns on words. Thank you for reading & writing.

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Fast Five with Vicki Hellmer

Vicki Hellmer, poetry advocate & appreciator

“Poetry is everywhere these days if we are open to it.”

— Vicki Hellmer

Welcome to Fast Five, an occasional series in which I ask my favorite writers five questions as a way to open the door to know more.

Today, something different.

Every story needs a reader. Every poem, an appreciator. Thank goodness for Vicki Hellmer, who has spent decades amplifying poetry.

Every week for 21 years, Vicki has chosen a poem, researched and written a background on the poem and poet, and shared these treasures via email. To date, she’s shared over 1,000 poems — each hand-picked, thoroughly researched, and lovingly shared — for free.

She is not paid for her time and effort, and charges nothing for her work. She is simply, powerfully, fueled by the love of poetry. She’s not a writer; in fact, for years she worked as a legal secretary before attending law school at age 34. She then spent her career in commercial real estate finance law and retired in 2017.

Vicki lives in Denver, Colorado. An avid reader, she has served on the Denver Public Library Commission and the Denver Public Library Friends Foundation. A self-described “public library super-user,” she currently has six books checked out “and only 25 on hold!”

1.
You’ve shared poems and poets to hundreds of people every week for 21 years — for free!

How did you start this project, and why? 

I’ve read poetry for many years, since high school in the mid-1970s. It was mostly a solitary pleasure for years. Then I met a friend, Jon, who also loved poetry, and he curated a weekly poetry email list (no supplements, just poems). Back in May 2005, I “babysat” the list for a couple of weeks while Jon was on paternity leave. When he came back, I decided to start my own list. I mostly recruited friends and co-workers, but over the years many friends of friends (of friends. . . ) have joined.

Each year I ask people to confirm that they want to stay on the list; a handful of people usually decide not to continue (too many other demands on their time), but there are always emails saying, “I have this friend who’s interested. . .”

I started with maybe 35 people, and the list has hovered around 125-130 for the past handful of years. I started writing one-page supplements after a few years, when an ex-boyfriend said he was sure he wasn’t the only person who would appreciate some more information about the poems and the poets. I learn so much, researching for the supplements!

2.
While most poetry websites or social media poetry accounts are created by and for poets, your effort is unique; you are not a poet, and many of the people who sign up for your free service are not poets. How do you explain the appeal? 

 My list includes several poets, but also several people who don’t regularly read or write poetry. I think there are a lot of people in the U.S. who want and need poetry in their lives, but don’t know how to find it. This way, it’s delivered to their email inbox once a week, and they can choose how and when to read. Some people read each poem right away, some save up the emails until they have time to read a bunch of poems at once, some only sometimes read the poems; and at least a few people from my past have told me they just like seeing my name in their inbox once a week! There’s no pressure to read any certain way, or at all.

3.
Your weekly emails include a poem, along with a lengthy backstory of the poem and poet. What do you look for when you choose a poem and poet to share with others? 

I am always on the lookout for sources. Poetry is everywhere these days if we are open to it – there are references to poems all around us. I read many books of poetry (from the library), including anthologies, for myself and for the list.

Most of the poems I choose are contemporary. I try to send out some poems that are timely (politically or seasonally), or are likely to strike a chord with people on the list. I keep in mind specific people who are on the list, and choose poems that I think will resonate with them for some reason. And I strive to include diverse voices. Keeping in mind the range of people who receive these emails, I try to choose poems that are accessible yet not too simple.

4.
What’s a favorite poem and/or poet you've shared? 

Wow! I’ve shared almost 1,100 poems, and I have many favorites among them. The poets who’ve written the most poems on my list are probably Dorianne Laux (16 poems), Edward Hirsch (13), Jane Hirshfield (12), and Lucille Clifton (10), but I strive for variety.

One of my favorite poems (I loved it so much, I sent it out twice) is Joseph Stroud’s Manna:

5. 
What has surprised you about this project? 

One of the most interesting aspects, for me, has been to read poetry list recipients’ responses to the poems (most people don’t comment, but some do). It has made me realize how much the reader brings to the poem. Poems don’t exist in a vacuum. Each reader’s life shapes how she or he will read and respond to each poem.

* * *

To sign up for Vicki’s Free Weekly Poems, send an email to: vhellmer@msn.com

Things I Like Lately

From the Ten Line Tuesday series by Maya Stein.

1.
Ten Line Tuesday, poems by Maya Stein
Each week Maya Stein composes an original short-form poem, and has written more than 1,000 of these gems. I love this poem, and her commitment to a creative practice that takes a specific form.

2.
Bob Trevino Likes It — movie
This is the Best Movie You Never Saw in 2025. It’s true! Starring John Leguizamo (love him) and Barbie Ferreira, this is a gentle, tender film about the power of being seen and truly seeing others in return. Beautiful.

3.
A Little Prayer — movie
An understated drama that looks at generational rifts and bonds. Actors David Strathairn and Jane Levy deliver quietly powerful performances.

4.
Bibliomancy Oracle
Have you ever asked a question, opened a book to a random page, and interpreted the text for a symbolic answer? That’s bibliomancy, the ancient practice of seeking guidance or predicting the future by randomly selecting and interpreting passages from a book, most commonly sacred texts like the Bible or I Ching.

I love horoscopes, tarot cards, and all things “by chance.” So I love the Bibliomancy Oracle created by poet Reb Livingston. The system uses lines of poetry as guidance. “The idea is that meaningful texts are offered via synchronicity,” she explains. “The relevant message finds you. You only need to be open to receiving it.”

5.
Books I Want To Read Because I Like The Title:

• The Trouble With Loving Poets and Other Essays on Failure, by Elizabeth Zaleski. I’ve never heard of this author but I am at one with the title. The book is scheduled for release this month.

• The Solace of Fierce Landscapes by Belden C. Lane. I don’t know this author either, but I’ve got to get this 1998 book.

As always, thanks for showing up. These are rough days with cruelties accumulating at an alarming pace. The heart and mind require rest.

We need to look for the bits of light. What are you liking lately? I’d love to hear from you.

Send light, write!

Every Step

Monks walk for peace,
people shot in street,
and the world is weary

I once believed noticing

the world made my

heart grow stronger.

If every appreciation is prayer,

every seashell is a story,

every rock holds a history.

The waves, when you lean in

to listen, play a slow song

that pushes past to present,

each roll a call to solid shore.

But now the heart falters.

I once talked to god

but now I shout to sky.

I throw my prayers to the night,

dare sleep and stars to dream me awake

then shake my fist and make demands:

find me, fix me, help me believe.

In the morning, I am already weary.

Still, the old song plays:

Let there be peace on earth

and let it begin with me.

So say the monks,

the walkers, the wishers,

the believers, the thinkers.

Does it take faith or folly

to sing a hopeful hymn?

If every step is prayer,

I offer my plea:

please, please, please.

— Drew Myron

The days feel heavy, weighted with cruelty and uncertainty. I envy the monks, their steadfast belief as they Walk for Peace across 2,300 miles in harsh weather.

“If we cannot walk peacefully within our own hearts,” the monks ask, “how can we truly walk peacefully in the world?”

In their daily effort, they remind us that every step forward is an act of faith in humanity, a prayer, a soft urgent plea.

Please keep on, friends.

With love,
Drew

Poetry In Motion

Everything old is new again.

Or could be with imagination.

I’m happy to announce the remix of Forecast: Astrology through Painting, Poetry & Motion.

In the Way Back Days
Can you remember when cell phones were used to make calls? When we had only cranky dial-up internet? When social media did not exist?

Still with me?

Way back then, Tracy Weil and I collaborated to create Forecast, a groovy art & poetry project. In 2008, Forecast debuted as an art exhibition and book featuring the 12 zodiac signs, each paired with original art and poetry.

The show opened at Weilworks Gallery in Denver, Colorado, long before we had the mass communication tools we now take for granted.

Forecast is now enjoying a re-release with an update that blends paintings and poetry with evocative video.

What Is Forecast?
Using daily horoscopes as a launching point, I tumbled and turned astrological prose into what I call “horoscope poems,” a form that — like a horoscope — directs and suggests.

Complementing the poems are 12 interpretive oil paintings by artist Tracy Weil. In a style that has been called “Dr. Seuss meets Van Gogh,” Tracy paints imagined landscapes where realism and surrealism meet in a colorful world both playful and profound.

As longtime friends, we’ve collaborated for more than 30 years (yikes, we’re old!). Emphasizing adventure and play, we blend forms to create inventive, accessible art. The result is a combination of chance and possibility, the zing of what is and what could be — in art and in everyday life.

The works are sign specific and we encourage you to find your sign. Which one inspires you? A key is included in the back of the book, originally published in 2008 and now available in both print and ebook.

What’s Your Sign?

View Forecast films on Instagram here.

Buy Forecast book, in print or ebook here.

Buy Forecast original paintings here.

Thankful Thursday: Clearing

1.
What is the new year if not a fresh start?

I turn the page not with resolution but with a clearing, which is a lot like a cleansing but with less deprivation and more gratitude.

Thank you for this, and this, and this, I say to myself while sweeping away last year’s swirl of dust and debris.

2.
For weeks I’ve been reading this two-in-one poem by Rebecca Lindenberg.

3.
The poem appear in The Logan Notebooks, published in 2014. I read this piece years ago and it recently surfaced again, as good poems often do. But this time I couldn’t shake it. It urged a call for consideration: What matters? What doesn’t?

How very resolution-ish.

In response to a single half-page poem, I filled pages and pages with my own answers. Then returned days later to disagree, scratch out, replace. This not that. That, maybe. This, never.

I’ve written long sentences that run across crumpled notes to self. And short statements that resemble mindfulness drivel. I even drafted an overbearing declaration that fell apart with a deeper look.

4.
It’s examination, of course, which is good for the soul. An accounting and a plea. And then, finally, a shout to the winds:

Make my life! Clear a path. Clear my head. Point the way.

5.
This is an exercise, but also more. I am choosing what gets my attention. A new year, a fresh start. Let’s think this through. Let’s make it matter.

This is the power of poetry, of writing, painting, sewing — of creating. We find our way as we make our way. The more we make, the more we feel, the more we think, the more we live — grateful, awake, full.

And, really, isn’t that the point?

It’s Thankful Thursday, a weekly pause to express appreciation for people, places, things, and more. Attention attracts gratitude, and gratitude expands joy. Please join me.

 What are you thankful for today?

* * *

The world turns on words. Thank you for reading & writing.

• If you know someone who might enjoy this blog — please share.

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What I Had To Give

Merry Christmas.

My heart is in my throat. This happens every year. A quiet church. Candles. Silent Night. Graffiti. Every small thing brings me to tears.

Among the tinsel, shine and fa la la, this holiday carries a weight I can never fully explain.

Perhaps it is the season’s steady expectation. Or more likely, it’s an inner tug toward something inexplicable, a sort of reverence that recognizes the heft and marrow of all the things we cannot buy: faith, love, trust.

While love is most often “patient and kind” it can also feel steep and rocky, full of missteps and mumblings.

But we keep trying.

We dust off, sweep up, stand tall. For no reason, for every reason, we give our hearts — expecting nothing, and everything, in return.

Please, let us keep giving, keep loving, keep on.

With appreciation,

Drew

Read & Unread: Good Books of 2025

In a gift giving frenzy?

In this season of giving, the air is filled with an urgency that calls for action: Make it special! Make it sparkle!

But I say skip the glitz and hand me books.

Books always fit and rarely offend. Books are best to both give and receive. Give them used and tattered or fresh and crisp — a book, in any state, always opens with love.

Here are my picks for best books of 2025:

FICTION

Heart the Lover by Lily King

A masterful writer, Lily King skillfully captures the emotional tenor and evolution of characters over time. This one left me in tears. Of all her novels (I’ve read at least eight), this is my favorite to date.

Hot Milk by Deborah Levy

Mysterious, dreamy, sinister, surreal, atmospheric — I loved this strange book. It’s the classic mother-daughter tangle, with hypnotic distortion that somehow feels more true than a traditional telling.

Stone Yard Devotional by Charlotte Wood

A beautifully quiet book that gently, but never cloyingly, explores the working faith that life requires.

Show Don’t Tell by Curtis Sittenfeld

I loved this book of short, but dense and satisfying, stories. A bestselling author, Curtis Sittenfeld always delivers steady pieces, and this collection features middle-age women leading smart, witty, wondering, wandering, complicated, ordinary lives.

Leaving by Roxana Robinson

I will be forever grateful to the friend who pressed this book in my hand (thanks Beth!). Roxana Robinson is now one of my favorite novelists. Her characters are nuanced and real, and plot and pacing are finely balanced and true. In 2025, I tore through her entire backlist of short stories and novels. All are excellent, but Leaving remains at the top of my list.

A Christmas Memory by Truman Capote

My new favorite Christmas classic! Published in 1956, how did I not know of this beautifully written tale of friendship, humor and warmth? (With thanks to Audrey who always gifts the perfect book).

POETRY

The Wonder of Small Things: Poems of Peace & Renewal, edited by James Crews

This easy-to-read paperback anthology is my comfort companion. Packed with solid and accessible poems, this find includes writing prompts and reflections, too. I love this book, and have gifted this gem so many times I’ve probably given it to you twice!

MEMOIR

Memorial Days by Geraldine Brooks

This is a book you don’t want to need but really want to read. Lately, I try to enter a book knowing nothing at all; I like the fresh slate, no expectation experience. This approach worked really well on Memorial Days, a portion-of-life memoir that is beautiful, direct, and incredibly moving.

BOOKS I SHOULD READ

My pile of want-to-reads is always growing (over 200!). On this long list, these books have been especially languishing with my inattention. Pick me, pick me, I hear them cry.

Here are the perpetual hangers-on:

Atonement by Ian McEwan

Lonesome Dove by Larry McMurtry

Possession by A.S. Byatt

The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency by Alexander McCall Smith

Yoga For People Who Can't Be Bothered To Do It by Geoff Dyer. I love this title so much!

I really should read these. People rave about them. Have you read these books?

Please, help me decide: time to cut them loose (and lessen my guilt), or finally dig in (and experience the beautiful state of book joy)?

Blog subscribers can simply hit “reply” to this email.

Or, send an email: dcm@drewmyron.com

I’d love to hear from you.

* * *

The world turns on words. Thank you for reading & writing.

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Thankful Thursday: Thanks Giving

Adam Jones photo, courtesy of Creative Commons.

DESERT NOTES

— from Loreto, Baja California Sur

Guardians

Pelicans on a rocky shore

perched like

sentries of

the sea.

Dawn

Pushing through dark

a deepening light

stretches sky.

Noise

A rally of roosters,

the moaning gull,

loud boom of a neighbor’s bass,

my own insistent want —

how hard we work to be heard.  

Persistence

In desert heat

from cracked rock

a blade of grass

braves a way.

In the Canyon

From the dew

a flutter of yellow butterflies

lift us through rock and

sand, palm and sea.

this is how joy travels:

a trail of small surprises.

Palms

In strong wind

the pressing rustle

of change.

Thanks Giving

Again, again, again

wave meets shore.

A gentle song

of steady faith.

To notice is one way to give thanks.

To nod yes, and yes, and yes.

To every small maybe.

To every large perhaps.

To this, I plea and pray and poem —

please let me live in gratitude, let me know full.

 * * *

It’s Thankful Thursday, a (mostly) weekly pause to express appreciation for people, places, things, and more.

Gratitude is distilled attention. Platitudes are pleasing but powerless. As in writing and life, specificity is best. When we look closer, we see more, feel more, live more.

In tough times, gratitude can be difficult to reach, though this is often when we need it most. Gratitude does not erase worries and fears, but maybe — if we’re lucky, patient, willing — it shifts our perspective, nudging us toward a better view of goodness, light, possibility.

Thank you for being here with me.

— Drew

Thankful Tuesday: Listening

Toll booth at Button Bridge in Hood River, Oregon.

Dear You,

Because the light is short and the weather heavy, I’m in the getting-through season. Sweaters, socks, blankets, bed. When I leave the house, I dart between between soak and saturation.

Don't get me wrong, we’re okay. The world feels mean and nervous, but we’re safe. But it’s not enough, is it? We’re not safe, not happy, if our neighbors are hungry, hurt, frightened.

The alarms are blasting. But the silence is stilling.

I’m trying to stay awake to the world. But it wears — this rain, this worry, this steady unease.

* * *

But, how are you?

* * *

At the crowded coffeeshop yesterday, a stranger motions to an empty chair.

How easy it is to offer a place at the small table between us. She is quiet and contained but when I tender a question, she unfolds.

This happened, that happened. From Mexico to New York, Colorado to Oregon. Securing a job, saving for a car, getting a license, missing family, learning a language.

I’m eager to practice my Spanish but she wants to practice her English, and she is so open and eager that I tuck my slim knowledge away. We are surrounded by action — rushing, ringing, talking, calling — and here we are, two strangers leaning in to listen.

I am fixed on this exchange, the ease of her telling, the ease of my nods and encouragements. How easy it is to listen, to be present, without pressure or expectation.

I like my life, she tells me, as if surveying the contents of a purse spilled.

After a time without hurry, we gather to go, share names, shake hands, and return to our individual lives.

All night, with envy and awe, I think of her contentment.

* * *

We study happiness like it’s a formula we can solve, a friend recently said to me.

Once, I imagined a writing project in which I would send a letter that contained just three questions:  Are you happy? What is happiness? How did you get there?

I imagined the letters I’d receive in return: long thoughtful responses, secrets to success, maps to happiness.

I never sent the letter. I don’t know if you are happy.

 * * *

When someone deeply listens to you, writes John Fox, the room where you stay starts a new life and the place where you wrote your first poem begins to glow in your mind’s eye.

* * *

Once, I wrote a poem that turned to pieces.

Once, I stopped saying aloud the quiet questions inside.

Once, I sat with a stranger and let her tell me what she had to give, what I had not asked but eagerly received.

Ask Me

Some time when the river is ice ask me

mistakes I have made. Ask me whether

what I have done is my life. Others

have come in their slow way into

my thought, and some have tried to help

or to hurt: ask me what difference

their strongest love or hate has made.

I will listen to what you say.

You and I can turn and look

at the silent river and wait. We know

the current is there, hidden; and there

are comings and goings from miles away

that hold the stillness exactly before us.

What the river says, that is what I say.

— William Stafford

Thank you, friend, for listening.
With love & appreciation,

Drew

* * *

It’s Thankful Thursday (on Tuesday, because sometimes you have to rise when gratitude arrives) — a weekly pause to express appreciation for people, places, things, and more. Attention attracts gratitude, and gratitude expands joy. Please join me.

What are you thankful for today?

On Sunday: Search

This restless search for beauty and relief

Some days I want to cut

the lower branches of my life

but maybe the motion I want

is not to sever but to crack

an opening

to be a traveler, perhaps

passing the day

in a morning that moves slowly

the way a fleet of birds can split

a sky to reveal the loophole of hope.

Or like a wave — visitor to land

never belonging for long

but tumbling to catch a shore

closer to home.

— Drew Myron

* Title is a borrowed line from a poem in frank: sonnets by Diane Seuss

One Good Line

Read any good books lately?

I’ve been on a string of so-so books. Some snoozers, some losers, with a few sporadic bright spots. It’s probably me; the books aren’t bad, but my attention is divided, my mind distracted. Timing is everything — and sometimes I’m not yet ready, or past the time, for the book I’ve chosen.

When the reading is rough, I look for the glimmer of one good line. While one line cannot save a book, it does make for a happy hunt.

Here’s my latest, from Three Days In June, a novel by Anne Tyler:

Everything Sophie said, as a rule, was about

three degrees too vivacious. It seemed that she

lived on some other level than ours, someplace

louder and more brightly lit.

Tell me, what’s your one good line lately?

Tricks: For Kids, Artists, Poets . . .

Writing in books feels liberating, and can lead to strange literary discoveries.

Bunny Brown and His Sister Sue and Their Trick Dog is a charming book published in 1923 by an author with an equally charming name:  Laura Lee Hope. Produced from 1916 to 1931, the Bunny Brown books show young protagonists in adventures at the circus, carnival, seaside, and other delightful settings.

But, alas, the charm is shortlived. There is no Laura Lee Hope. It’s a pseudonym.

Like the Bobbsey Twins, Hardy Boys, and Nancy Drew series, the Bunny Brown books were written by a stable of  writers that were part of the Stratemeyer Syndicate. 

But wait! Is this common knowledge and I’m just now seeing the truth of my childhood faves? Is this the early dawn of AI, or just another case of unappreciated writers?

But no matter, the books live on.

Now, many of the vintage books are repurposed into modern journals. I love this re-use!

My favorite place to buy these creative remakes is Ex Libris Anonymous, a one-many operation based in Oregon and run by entrepreneur Jacob Storm Deatherage (another great name!). Like his vintage books, Jacob is charming and delightful, and with each order he often includes a kind and chatty note, along with ephemera found within book pages:  a grocery list, notes to self, an odd doodle.

Taking the re-use principle one step further, I turned the Bunny Brown pages into a series of erasure poems. In the spirit of use what you have — reduce, recycle, re-use. Who knows what you’ll make!

Chapter 1

Help

the empty feeling.

Shout for an

answer.

The Trick, 21

Dance a waltz.

Clap in delight.

Look smart.

Teach the trick of pretending.

Trick, 17

Time and love

is the only way to get through

the circus.

Trick, 19

Call the morning open

and lift a wish to be kind.

I know we can — for a moment.

 * * *

The world turns on words. Thank you for reading & writing.

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Thankful Thursday: You

It’s Thankful Thursday, a weekly pause to express appreciation for people, places, things, and more.

Attention attracts gratitude, and gratitude expands joy, and joy leads to more appreciation. In this powerful loop, as we look for small daily pleasures our perspective shifts, and our attitude, too.

* * *

The other day, I stumbled upon, “You, If No One Else,” and it felt like the poem had found me when I needed it most. The poem, by Tino Villanueva, was published in 1994 and experienced a resurgence in recent years.

You know how it goes when time and circumstance meet in synchronicity: you make a new friend, read a good book, find a great poem. In the 1990s, the buzz phrase was, There are no accidents. (“Visualize Whirled Peas” was also a popular at the time).

It’s still hokey, but kinda true.

* * *

Because so much seems bad, I’ve been looking for the good.

Along with everyday annoyances (greedy corporations, grocery prices, health care hoops, people without empathy . . . ), politics are sinking my spirit and sapping my strength. I’m trying, I’m trying, I’m trying to see the good.

And then I found this nugget:

“If I want to have loving feelings (instead of doom, judgment and paranoia) I just have to do loving things.” — Anne Lamott

Oof, there you go. Simple and true.

* * *

The other day, while pacing the crossroad of overwhelm and despair, it struck me that no one was going to save me.

Most of us come to this realization early in life. As young adults it dawns on us that a parent or teacher or “person in charge” is not marching in to save the day.

So we grasp and grow and become increasingly self-sufficient. We accomplish, achieve, and feel the power of can-do. We learn this early and then repeat, repeat, repeat.

But some of us (me) get lazy. We rely on a partner, a friend, someone with knowledge, access, or power, to take care of business, to make things right.

But I have to keep learning the work of self-sufficiency, to dust off and walk away from wallow and tears. The message is pressing and clear: we have to get out of the self to feel the power of self.

* * *

Anne is right, and so is Tino.

It’s up to you and you and you, which is to say me, you, us.

Be the change. Remember that one?

Still true.

* * *

This tough-love talk has been brought to you (and me) by Thankful Thursday.

Today I am thankful for poems and people who urge me into action.

What are you thankful for today?