poems + nails

It was a busy week when visiting poet Steve Scafidi was here. Nightly workshop sessions, long drives home in the dark, off-the-cuff exercises -- we even had to compose poems without writing anything down, culminating in what felt like the week's grand finale: fifteen people slowly reciting their short, unpolished pieces one at a time as the sun set behind the building, and no one thought to turn the lights on.

Steve, whose every word, I swear, is made of whiskey and wood, had this to say of poetry: "A poem should mean as much as stepping on a nail, or being kissed -- if I step on a nail, I could die; if I'm kissed, my life could change from such a thing."  Yeah, he just says things like that in normal conversation.

When we are old one night and the moon
arcs over the house like an antique
China saucer and the teacup sun
follows somewhere far behind
I hope the stars deepen to a shine
so bright you could read by it
[. . . .]
Read "Prayer for a Marriage" by Steve Scafidi


  1. Sounds like a really great experience!

  2. I just read the poem you linked to, and I think I can honestly say I don't think I have ever felt about poetry the way I feel about that piece. I will be reading more of his work.

    That's sounds like a really amazing, intense week.