Brenda Hillman ranks high on my list of favorite female poets. Yet, I chose to work with words from this poem because I really just enjoy the poem. I feel a piece of my childhood inside her playful, questioning words of Nancy Drew. Her reference to 1962 because I am enamored with vintage literature.
Here are the words:
I actually wrote another Haibun. I am really enjoying playing with this poetic form.
She’s a 6am fray of fleece slippers, unraveling. She wears coffee-stains on the left shoulder of her shirt like a metaphorical holster. Coffee-black and pen poised, words have been haunting her all night. Syllable by rank, impulsive syllable and thrashed from slumber, they summon her to the click-click of her pen-drip no matter a Wednesday or Sunday.
She takes the suggestion of every finger-winding soliloquy to heart, ignoring the thorn-twist of each melodramatic ending; ignores the too-stiff enunciations, fumbles with secrets like clumsy thumbs across a closed heart-locket. Impractical as a raincoat on a cloudless day, she’s always careful to dot the i’s and cross the t’s.
She’s the smoky bar
To Kerouacs’ lost car keys;A stiff shot half-drank.