I used to love: An exchange

Community: Part 1

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An exchange: Community

Today, I am excited to publish Part 1 of the inaugural An exchange, a new side of the Poetry & Process newsletter where artists explore a topic through an exchange of their art. An exchange was first announced to the Poetry & Process community in an April Reflection essay on the poem Promises.

This month’s exchange is on the topic of Community, a series of six pieces written over the past three months, poems from Brian Funke, author of Poetry & Process, and Jason McBride, author of Weirdo Poetry. A newsletter will be published daily for six days, exploring different aspects of Community, each publication responding to and building on the prior piece from the collaborating artist. Read along and consider your own community with themes of childhood, friendship, love, broken community, leaving and returning, solitude, nature, searching, parenting, and promises.

I hope you enjoy this collaborative effort on Community.

Community: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

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I used to love

Brian Funke

Photo by Annie Spratt

I used to love
the walk up the
mountain to
your apartment,
swinging my sword
at the lamp pole
to slay the beast
lurking in the forest,
running from
the herd who
was sure
to trample me
with their bone hooves,
and catching
a glimpse
of your mom’s
street parked
red Corolla
peeking through
the fog,
knowing I
would find refuge
from the
impending blizzard
with you
watching more TV
than I
was supposed to.

I used to love
meeting in
the green valley,
sheer rock walls
of beige siding 
towering
far above
our eight-year-old
dreams,
wandering with
other lone wolves
who wandered
through sliding doors
when they heard
us howl,
and running
as a pack
for the thrill
of a game
of hide
and seeking
freedom in
the world
that we knew
we held
in our minds.

I used to love
the endless
interstate drive,
entranced by endless
rows of 
flipbook corn
that sped by
my side window
as he drove
sixty-five
and we wondered
where to find
the mysterious one
from Rhode Island
that she would
map to a list
only for us,
three of us
in two bench seats
with loose seat belts
to provide a
space to breathe.

I used to love
the way we gathered
around a baton
with one idea
in mind,
finding flow
for the first time
as we
breathed 
in unison
and one-hundred
brass, wood,
and string
erupted
into harmony
and shouts
of bravo
echoed in the
chambers of
ourselves
that had vanished
as we stood
and lowered 
our crowns 
in submission
to gods 
of sound
who chose us
for this day.

We are born
knowing we belong,
that the earth
is here to
greet us 
with confetti of 
blowing 
cherry blossoms
and poems of 
shooting stars,
that the arms
of another
are shaped 
to hold
the curves of
our bodies
and fears,
and even
when cast
to the ends
of the earth,
it is the
earth that
we are
made of,
and the earth
to which
we may
return.

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Thank you for reading Part 1 of Community! Please leave a comment about what strikes you, speaks to you, or stirs in you while you read. Perhaps consider what community meant to you when you were a kid.

Part 2 of the exchange will be published tomorrow! Until then…

May you see how you belong.

Brian

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