When I was young, one set of parents gave me the nickname Dodo. My poem of the same name considers the slippery nature of the writer’s mind and the importance of following one's intuition. With this piece, I have reclaimed the word’s meaning, refiguring its connotation, marveling at the fleeting nature of ideas, and attempting to honor a flightless bird whom we’ll never truly know.
At my favorite dwelling, from the time that I was born until I was eight years old, my grandparents had a deep koi pond in their front yard. I could sit at the edge of it, my legs submerged to the knees, and I would talk to the fish as I fed them. I often brought books with me and read aloud. The koi were colorful and friendly, such curious water dragons.
With my head close to the surface, lying on my belly, I would write and draw while watching their fins glide above the surface of the water, around boulders and lily pads, and under low-hanging fern fronds. Their mouths would send up kisses and questions. The koi were the first creatures who proved to me that water is the element of creativity.
These days, if only in my imagination, I return to write with them.
Click on the image below to read Dodo, which appears in Common Ground Review’s Fall/Winter 2022 Issue, available to all, free and online. It’s filled with beauty.
Congratulations to you for “Dodo”, your most recently published poem!! I love your conception of the creative process as appreciation for a metaphorical school of koi, each one an idea💡 swimming in our minds. I, too, long to “set the cats to purr” so we can get back to daydreaming of one fish, two fish, novel fish, short story fish 🎣 ….
Ah, the sonic goodness in this poem is delicious: "tasting settled vestiges and digesting", "the bubbles ‘n' splash speak of gathering fish". And what a sad and distressing and profound phrase... "The brilliance of the extinct"