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Micah Bauman, Summer 2016

The following poem was first published in Word Fountain

My House
Micah Bauman

my house
is slowly leaving me
piece by piece
it departs

I’ll have nowhere
to live
to sleep
my house is slowly leaving me

the wall left
It desired some time alone
the ceiling left
It reached an all-time low
the floor left
It couldn’t handle the pressure anymore
the door left
In search of greater opportunities
the roof left
It was feeling under the weather
the window left
It yearned to see the world

the stairs
they come and go
can never make up their mind

my house is slowly leaving me
soon I will leave too
not yet though
i’ll stay here for now
just me and the closet
hanging around

My House is a poem I started back in high school. For some reason writing the poem seemed more interesting than what the lesson was for that day. I won’t say what class it was or mention the name of the teacher. I will say that I did not get away (sort of) with writing the note. It was taken away from me as soon as she noticed it. It wasn’t until later that the note was returned to me, the teacher commenting that it was “deep”, but that I “Should not have been writing it during class”. Her giving me back the note may have encouraged me to finish the poem.

The original idea was to anthropomorphize parts of a house and explore how they might interact. The poem slightly changed from time to time until eventually it took this form. I don’t want to get into too many details. But I will say that it did not have an ending until I took the note home and typed it up on the computer.

Before it was published in Word Fountain Summer 2016 ,it was read in the fall of 2012 at an event called Poetry Under the Paintings in Lewisburg. I, feeling too shy to read it at the moment, settled for having my father read it (after I emailed it to him and gave him permission). People there seemed to like it. Anyway, I read it to several other audiences and edited it until eventually it was completed and eventually published.



Source: Micah Bauman, Summer 2016

Poetry Month Playlist Wrapup

Because I never seem to remember to categorize my blog posts, here is a good way to find all the recording Dad and I did for poetry month. So, if you haven’t listened to any of the recordings, it only takes nine and a half minutes to listen to all of them, so listen to all of them. Please. . .

David J. Bauman

An old favorite of the whole crew, poets on the ends, guitar players in the middle.

My youngest boy had a lovely idea for Poetry Month; we would agree on a poet for each week of April and each of us would record a poem or more by that poet. It was fun, and I even found a few poems by these favorites that I hadn’t heard before. You can follow back through this blog and his, or to skip the commentary and just go for the audio experience, we’ve put together the whole playlist:

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A Reading of The Unexplorer by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Coutinuing the Traveling theme from yesterday, I recorded what would be my last recording of this Poetry Month project.

The Unxplorer
by Edna St. Vincent Millay
There was a road ran past our house
Too lovely to explore.
I asked my mother once—she said
That if you followed where it led
It brought you to the milk-man’s door.
(That’s why I have not traveled more.)