Posts by Fleda

My Wobbly Bicycle, 143

Posted by on Oct 8, 2017 in Featured | 8 comments

My Wobbly Bicycle, 143

  I’ve been having adventures. This whole last year with Jerry and his back and his hip have been the main adventure, of course. Actually, yes, it is has been that. I sometimes think, when something happens that feels almost unbelievably hard, “Well, I’m getting to add this to my repertoire.” Not exactly repertoire, but Life Lived. Okay, now this. I’ve had a thought that when every blank is filled in, I’ll be done. But there are so many blanks, so much that hasn’t happened to me yet and can’t, because I am only me. I have an inherited filter that says “me,” and only...

Read More

My Wobbly Bicycle, 142

Posted by on Sep 20, 2017 in Archive | 13 comments

My Wobbly Bicycle, 142

I’m sleeping, as I usually do, like a baby. And taking naps. But I’m tired. Yes, you say, of course! Jerry’s surgery and illness. Your two—no, three—no, four— years of illness and surgeries. And you’d be right, but I’m thinking about WHY it’s tiring. Everyone I’ve talked to who’s taken care of a sick loved one has expressed a deep fatigue. Here is what I’ve come up with:   It’s not the sitting by a bedside. I can sit and watch birds or waves for a long time, and not feel tired. It’s not the struggle to make conversation. I have sat by Jerry for many minutes...

Read More

My Wobbly Bicycle, 141

Posted by on Sep 10, 2017 in Archive | 20 comments

My Wobbly Bicycle, 141

Is this a poem or a post? For sure it is not going anywhere. It is just staying here in this hospital room. Inside the room is a smaller room, which is the ultrasound screen, its still smaller rooms made of pulsating shadows. The light within the shadows are the rooms of the arteries, the veins, which all look good, open, doing their job. No heart problem, no clots. It was the CT scan and then x-rays that found the problems.   Nobody is going anywhere at the moment. Except me, back and forth, home to hospital. There is a deep enclosure that forms around sickness. It sucks you in. The...

Read More

My Wobbly Bicycle, 140

Posted by on Aug 31, 2017 in Archive | 16 comments

My Wobbly Bicycle, 140

I have not been in touch. Again. I have not wanted to strain to invent something just for the sake of posting. Then this morning, propped up on four pillows, three white, one red, having foregone meditation to drink coffee and read a difficult book of poems, I realized—no, I thought—no, I was taken by the question, “What decides when I shall speak?” What set of circumstances drives words onto the page?   I have been taken by caretaking. Jerry is not okay. The back surgery followed by the hip surgery has caused some sort of muscle problem. He is getting fierce cramps. He walks,...

Read More

My Wobbly Bicycle, 139

Posted by on Aug 2, 2017 in Archive | 2 comments

My Wobbly Bicycle, 139

I moderated a panel this week at the Rainier Writing Workshop, the low-residency MFA program where I teach. Five of us prepared our thoughts on what writers can offer in this emergency political situation. Oliver de la Paz listed some practical things. This is from my notes.   Write a love letter to local organizers. Tell them how much you appreciate what they’re doing. Help fundraise as an artist. Donate your art for some event. Offer to contribute your writing; read a poem at a local event or rally, for example. Connect organizers to writers who speak to what they’re trying to do....

Read More