Live your poem
Drew Myron writes for love (and for money) and has been called the “poet laureate of vulnerability.”
She is the author of Thin Skin, photographs and poems, and her poems appear in a variety of books. She leads writing workshops for all ages in all places, and enjoys working with people who think they can’t write.
visit the dark places, you’ll never
feel the sea pull you in and under,
swallowing words before they form.
Until you visit places within you
cloistered and constant, you will travel
in a tourist daze, wrought with too much
of what endures, depletes.
If you never turn from light, close
your eyes, feel the life inside, you’ll leave
the church, the beach, your self,
knowing nothing more.
Unless you are silent, you will not
know your urgent heart, how it beats
between the thin skin of yes and no.
— Drew Myron
Where Art is Made
We are builders, makers, hopers, doers.
From clunkers and junkers,
out of shards and clay,
we shape and frame, sort and stir.
Each of us turning grime into gold.
Against fence and lock,
a door swings, a window opens,
a sunflower reaches for a fresh day.
Everything is always growing.
Dirt dusts places not yet alive
and in this gravel of possibility,
we honor the old and worn, the faded and frail,
know that good bones are worth holding.
Deep against rock, trains clack and roll,
we press into paper, scissors and paint,
splattered, gathered, mixed.
With each ding-ding-ding, solid freight
floats our dreams and we clatter, wide awake,
in dark, in light, in love and hope.
The day opens, the sky widens, you are here.
Hand in hand, arm in arm, each grip
is a dare to you declared:
Breathe, work, sear and sculpt.
Sew and hold, paint and saw.
Mix and mingle. Break rules, break ground.
Create your self, your world, your now.
On the bridge of progress, we dance and dive,
wonder, wander, taste and make.
With each how and why and what next?
we dig in and reach out
to build in the mind,
a step, a ladder, another sky.
Let’s scaffold the unknown.
In every thing, promise.
— Drew Myron
"Where Art Is Made" by Futuristic Films
Created for River North Art District (RiNo)
in Denver, Colorado
Conceived by Tracy Weil, RiNo Co-Founder/Creative Director
Narrated by Toluwanimi Obiwole,
Denver's first Youth Poet Laureate (2015)
Who knows how
the mind files memory?
Missing pieces, your
history, this life, lies
three states to the south —
lost rusted cars, bindweed
decay in the sun
wild geese fight winds
that rattle shingles, shake doors
your vacant eyes sort
through weeds, neglect
lands against antelope
bones blanched in desert heat —
futile to search for data:
the face of a son, the hand of the wife
price of wheat, words,
any words to rise, rescue us
from this wait,
this long silent loss.
— Drew Myron
A note from Drew about the poem:
Erosion is a poem about my grandfather. My grandparents Bart and Lu (short for Lucinda or Lucy) Myron were wheat farmers in Washington's Spokane Valley. After 40 years of farming, they retired and spent winters in the Arizona desert. In their last years, they lived with my parents in Colorado. Bart lived to nearly 95 (just a few months shy) and Lu lived to 97.