When a poet sends you a package…
I got a package in the mail today from one of my favorite poets, Anne Caston. Wild woman of words, you can never predict what treasure Anne has carefully wrapped and taped and marked with your name and address. In the past she’s given me:
a beautiful handmade quilt top
hand dyed fabrics
her book of poems
copies of new poems
hand made soap
Before she left Alaska, she gave me a little charm of orange haired theatre woman. I hung it above my bed. A little bright spot on the wall, I think of it as an eccentric stenographer taking down my dreams in short hand.
So today, this was in my package:
The motherfucker mug looks good next to the mermaid, don’t you think?
Anne, if you’re reading this, THANK YOU!!!! I LOVE IT!!!!
And I know exactly what I’m supposed to be doing at all times.
And for the rest of you reading this, if you don’t know Anne’s work, click on the link above for some of her poems. Explore the terrain of your own heart with her words. But be warned, Anne writes an unflinching truth and rarely provides safeguards in her poetry. That’s what makes her so brilliant.
Sunday Brunch at the Old Country Buffet
BY ANNE CASTON
Madison, Wisconsin, 1996