Poem for Monday

Watercolors from my new show at Crowell's Veckatimest Calm (West and East)

September feels like the autumnal version of June. The beginning of the lovely season shift gets us buzzed to do it all. See every friend and share every friend's specialness. This weekend we had a friday cocktail party, a saturday play, three sunday art openings, a brunch to make and my art show to make final preparations for. Sunday morning we decided to just stop instead. The joy of doing nothing. I wouldn't be sharing this poem with you now if I hadn't stolen that lovely nothing. But this Naomi Shihab Nye's poem says it better.

The Art of Disappearing

When they say Don’t I know you?
say no.

When they invite you to the party
remember what parties are like
before answering.
Someone telling you in a loud voice
they once wrote a poem.
Greasy sausage balls on a paper plate.
Then reply.

If they say we should get together
say why?

It’s not that you don’t love them any more.
You’re trying to remember something
too important to forget.
Trees. The monastery bell at twilight.
Tell them you have a new project.
It will never be finished.

When someone recognizes you in a grocery store
nod briefly and become a cabbage.
When someone you haven’t seen in ten years
appears at the door,
don’t start singing him all your new songs.
You will never catch up.

Walk around feeling like a leaf.
Know you could tumble any second.
Then decide what to do with your time. 

Naomi Shihab Nye

The poet reading this poem here