V E R S E and I M A G E

all selections from This Is Where I Came In

You’re anchored

lightly to the earth

it slowly turns

as you dance

upon its meadows

through forests and valleys

as dervishes in deserts

and mosques

as dolphins and whales

leap, breach, do figure eights

through cresting waves,

dive gracefully to depths

where ancient anchors

lay and rust amid coral,

barnacles, crustaceans,

otherworldly creatures.

that gently move

in rhythm with currents,

the moon and tides,

salt and sand,

the sun that warms your face,

your hands that reach for mine.

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There we were

in a bamboo

labyrinth

near a river

bending time

and desire,

holding hands,

finding our way

as the afternoon

leaned into dusk,

an undercurrent

of uncertainty

yet nothing abides

like nightfall

and how earth

embraces it,

how the sun rises

each morning,

how we find

ourselves.

❀    ❀    ❀

— Charlotte Joko Beck

dislodged

from the green-yellow

fruit sliced

lengthwise

small shiny

black seeds

scatter across

my plate

as if to be read

like stones

thrown by a

shaman.

my fingertip

searches

the cool moist

here

and now

the last moment

the last moment

the last moment

❀    ❀    ❀    ❀    ❀

[to the supplicant . . . ]

I miss Iodine Poetry Journal. I miss the poems, various and eclectic but also always solid and grounded. Human. Personal. I miss those slim perfect-bound volumes, and since each journal was as far as I know a one-person editorial effort, I miss imagining Jonathan Rice opening every submission, selecting his faves, arranging them in perfect order for the next issue. I especially miss the little logo on the back cover.

But what I miss most of all is waiting. It was never a long wait, usually only a month or so. I would visit the mailbox, spot the return address, wait to open the envelope until I was seated at my desk (magical thinking, always). Even if I pulled out a form letter, it would have a scrawl at the bottom: Hey Bill, Try another batch on me later. Thanks, Jonathan. Or even more encouragement: Hi Bill, I like the ‘Horizon’ poem the best, but at the end it shifts to 2nd person, which throws it off. If you revise that, try again and I’ll read it over. Thanks, Jonathan.

So worth waiting for. And between my first submission on June 14, 2002 and Jonathan’s last letter in my mailbox on October 12, 2015, he published ten of my poems in Iodine. Such an honor. You are my favorite editor, Jonathan. A little god of poetry, so like the deity speaking in the last poem of your new book – . . . I’m not as omniscient as you think . . . really not all that powerful . . . when no one else seems to care, you know I’m here waiting.

❀    ❀    ❀

This Is Where I Came In – so worth waiting for. It’s been a bit over ten years since Jonathan K. Rice’s last book of poetry and this new collection is fully and completely himself. Various and eclectic, solid and grounded, human and personal. Every poem sets me smiling, and every poem also sets me off on a journey of recollection and reflection. How is it that all these moments, so off-handedly random, coalesce to make a person. Capture one as if flies by. Ask it to bless you, then let it go. Anchored so lightly, how can we do other than dance?

❀

This Is Where I Came In, by Jonathan K. Rice, is available from Main Street Rag.

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