Seattle and a response poem





Last weekend my dear mom and I took our first adventure up north to Seattle. It was a quick three-day visit, but we packed the days with plenty: a trip to the Space Needle and the Chihuly Garden and Glass Museum, several visits to Pike Place market, a walk around the Seattle Public Library and the Capitol Hill neighborhood, and we could not leave without some of Fran’s chocolates. Just forget about it. Chocolate + caramel will never be the same again once you have one of her salted caramels.


The northwest is lovely and crisp. I couldn’t believe the expansive view of the waterfront near the Pike Place market, and marveled that the density of trees and water provided the feeling of being in Alaska; and, I suppose, it’s the closest I’ve ever been to what’s left of that glacial frontier.


No filter: it’s just that lovely there.

 We had some incredible meals at Restaurant Zoe and Tilikum Place Cafe, and even arranged some downtime to take in a movie. Last week also yielded the bulk of a poem, written in response to a streamline drawing viewed on the ever-brilliant Loom-Science blog. The streamline images are artistic and startling in color; my response poem is to this image in particular.

My heart is happy to be home again this week, gearing up for my first 10k race on Sunday and plotting important baking for the weeks ahead. More to come, friends.


When the radiant self begins to emit music and the entire body goes electric blue; watch as the form comes apart at the seams. Present or effervescent; cross-hatch and line; hallucination and current. (If only lightning could seek the pulse. While magic clings to the wire, rips into the heart.)

Haven’t we all watched from a distance as the self ceased velocity, when the very physics of the moment caused a full-stop? So the landscape was auburn and barren, so the sea was grey and full, and the fin of a great whale teased the surface, hinted at a powerful breach.

Tell me how it feels when the sky is superimposed on an alternate map of the world. Telephone wires are gridlines and streetlamps connect the dots — I never promised to live this life. One gentle lean backwards and the body is off and running. Can you hear the harp, the double-negative of the moment? The hiss and sizzle that crescendos with each step.

4 thoughts on “Seattle and a response poem

  1. What an fun filled and amazing weekend we had. Thank you Sweet Daughter for making this happen and for bringing me along. Best time ever! Let’s do it again. Love you🙂

  2. Pingback: Streamline Poetry | Adventures in Loom-Science

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