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Solo Novo: 122 Days

Bird of No Feather. The owl is exposed. Who was this bird Where did she hunt? Did she have children? How was she found and lifted and moved and mounted for us to witness her fragile, persistent insides?

This naked owl. Her bones stare into us. Do you want to put eyes in her eye holes? Save her, apologize to her, breathe air into her? It is as if we touch the cover of her, open her, in this Solo Novo.

Solo Novo: 122 Days is full of 90 poems written in the last four months of 2011. “The importance of saying this now is that it can’t be said later,” says Grace Cavalieri.  Michelle Bitting

offers, “now that summer’s gone, flung into earth’s bony bed….

I can talk about love...” John L. Stanizzi writes, “You’ll have to acknowledge the tonnage of your legs,/the pain and weakness,/the monumental focus necessary to move them …”

How can we protect ourselves inside the beast of time? Ted Kooser writes, “Perhaps if I make coffee the same way each morning….” Charlotte San Juan adds, “Maybe it’s the cilantro atmosphere/And the way the calm voice/over the speaker/sings nostalgia…” Christine Reilly takes us to the edge of ourselves, “when I stopped being human we could have done it together.”

Time. The time that. The day when. The moment you. The

morning of. The night we. Who, who, who, the owl sends into

the darkness. And there we are answering, us, us, us.

Thank you, poets, for poems strung together by days. Thank you, readers, for sharing this compilation with communities. Help poetry speak up for what matters in our times.

Paula C. Lowe


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