I am tidying up my email accounts, and I came across this poem/song that I wrote a couple of weeks ago as part of my early childhood literacy work through Literacy AmeriCorps. I designed a preschool Story Time around this song. The Story Time includes books about fleas and books about boars, and some felt storytelling and finger plays.

This is a very early draft of the song, but I wanted to capture it here for archival purposes.

I tried to include all the elements of early childhood literacy. I’m very new at this, though. But I think this is a good start.

The Fleaboars

The Fleaboars, the Fleaboars —
look like fleas but are really boars.

The Fleaboars, the Fleaboars —
they hang out down by floorboards.

When your dog or cat walks by
the Fleaboars jump really high.

The Fleaboars, the Fleaboars —
up close you can see their snouts.

The Fleaboars, the Fleaboars —
like to relax and chill out.

They would rather watch TV —
than splash in mud all mud-di-ly.

The Fleaboars, the Fleaboars —
make tiny oinks and have coiled tails.

The Fleaboars, the Fleaboars —
ride pets’ backs like riding rails.

When your pet runs or plays ball
Fleaboars clutch tight so they won’t fall.

The Fleaboars, the Fleaboars —
sometimes even they get bored.

The Fleaboars, the Fleaboars —
look like fleas but are really boars.

Oh, how time flies! There have been some recent changes in my life that have taken my away from this blog, including starting my service through Literacy AmeriCorps and the King County Library System. I feel as if I have died and gone to heaven, only neither death nor heaven is involved. What I really mean to say is that I have never been happier than when I am in the library or serving the public through the library system’s outreach efforts. Man, did I ever make the wrong decision back in 1997 when I was offered both an editing position and a library position, and I chose the former over the latter. Curses!

There have also been some changes at Read Write Poem that will necessitate my spending more time managing and writing content there — which means I will be writing less content here, unfortunately. I feel so strongly about Read Write Poem’s mission and the community that putting my energy into that project (even if my own blogging, prose-writing and poetry-writing all suffer as a result) is worth it to me in the end. So perhaps “suffer” is not the right term at all, but rather the phrase “will be altered by,” and I know firsthand that alterations not always a bad thing.

Then there’s the matter of my alter ego. That’s right. I have one. Or should I say, I have a new one. This particular one is not like Feldman the Robot, though. That is, this one is completely underground and has no public relationship with me whatsoever. And I need to write as this alter ego, to completely and fully inhabit this character’s voice, for a specific project that will most likely take at least a year to complete, which means I can’t post that content here as I work on and share it.

All of the above leaves me with the question of what to share here and how this blog will fit into my short- and long-term obligations and aspirations. I don’t know if I have the answer for that. You might hear a lot from me about library work or community outreach or early literacy education or Literacy AmeriCorps. You might see the last poems I am writing (with Feldman’s help) for my collection, Robotherapy. And it’s quite possible you won’t hear that much from me here very much at all.

This is a page from one of the children’s books I wrote and crafted when I was in high school. The paper is stained because my mother had it in her possession for years, and she was no archivist, hence the book sustained water damage. Or perhaps that’s whiskey damage. Hard to say in that house.

Oh, wait. The pages are nicotine-stained. Just like my lungs are from growing up in a household where smoking wasn’t just allowed — it was encouraged. Family members who didn’t smoke were ridiculed and ostracized. (And, of course, asthma was deemed a made-up condition for those too scared or weak to light up.)

:: Fish having fun in the water

Here’s a detailed view that shows the texture of the paper, as well as the paper layers.

:: Close-up

That’s the first thing Nathan Moore ever said to me, by way of a comment here at My Gorgeous Somewhere in June 2008. He was all shy and weird after that and wouldn’t talk to me, even when I pestered him.

Then we invited Nathan to be part of The Poetry Collaborative. Part of the deal was that I had to poetry-marry him for the month of September, as well as write a wedding poem with him. We started that poem Sept. 1, 2008. That’s the day Nathan *finally* started talking to me, not just running off.

You’re a great friend, Nathan. And one of my favorite people in the whole world. Thanks for writing that poem (and many more) with me. And thanks for being my friend. Happy one-year friendiversary and one-year co-poiversary. As I always tell you, I want every good thing for you in life. I always will.