Kristen Palmer
2024: 100 thousand praises
100 lines in praise of change
December 2023-February 2024 ____
I praise that I will be different when I finish this
I praise that I am not the same as I was at 40, 30, 20, 10-
I praise that I will turn this poem into something else
In praise of change cause I am not the center here.
In praise of teen-age poets banishing ‘I” from their lines
In praise of ink moving - liquid - words - thought
In praise of coffee alchemical mind
In praise of minor ailments
In praise of changes perspectives
In praise of a nudge towards care and softness
In praise of phone calls from old friends
In praise of the night
In praise of losing ‘that...”
In praise of steady heartbeats
In praise of orbits
In praise of seasons
In praise of water
In praise of dreaming vividly enough to hold ribbons on waking
In praise of eyeglasses
In praise of casts and braces, of physical therapy
In praise of bodies
In praise of sleep.
In praise of memory
In praise of books gifted in moments of inspiration
In praise of the wheel at the heart of it
In praise of forgetting
In praise of remembering
In praise of letters long gone
In praise of emails and texts, dms and ims, smoke signals and pigeons
In praise of tending to homes
In praise of fire
In praise of losing heart in a parking lot, alone
In praise of lost keys
In praise of long drives through empty towns
In praise of the landscape out the window
In praise of autumn in the northeast
In praise of winter anywhere
In praise of a planet on a tilting axis, dancing with the sun
In praise of airplanes
In praise of picking up and starting over
In praise of running away
In praise of new friends, basement bars and rocky overhangs
In praise of teachers from all directions
In praise of tension
In praise of splitting apart
In praise of trains that are late, cancelled, on-time and otherwise.
In praise of passengers who tell stories well
In praise of clutching a shirt sleeve
In praise of bringing flowers
In praise of making the call
In praise of answering
In praise of recognizing strangers on a darkened street.
In praise of sudden friends
In praise of longing for somewhere else.
In praise of reaching towards the unknown
In praise of marching with signs and shouts.
In praise of silence
In praise of tentative hands on a soft stomach
In praise of untethered time
In praise of youth
In praise of buses
In praise of books
In praise of the time it takes to read a book
In praise of finding the right book
In praise of falling asleep with a book
In praise of dreaming up a book
In praise of the words written in the front of a book with a date that marks a time before that book was gifted, that book was read, that book that opened a door -
In praise of losing a place
In praise of losing track of plans
In praise of dirt roads and rocks to climb.
In praise of boats
In praise of floating in a lake under a star-filled sky
In praise of an hour unaccounted for
In praise of long mornings away
In praise of breath
In praise of a list of things to do
In praise of steady progress, the wood and the water
In praise of the candle that burns away slowly
In praise of the evaporation of water and the crystals left behind
In praise of the bluebirds hovering around the wooden house the front yard, considering a future, even this year.
In praise of change that comes unbidden.
Billowing up from unexplored, unnamed regions
And washing over the stale air of
Frets, worries, endless replays of the same old programs And suddenly, remarkably-
The air is new
InexplicableDon’t try.
Only praise the change that comes through the cracks, Untended
Untended
The openings
Where a draft
Can enter
And -
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