There is something about the very early morning hours of a new day. A portal into the unconscious. I awoke at 3 a.m. and listened to the pre-dawn sounds: a whispering early morning breeze, the house settling, swaying branches.
Remember when I began cleaning out and donating books? Well, that’s when I found a 2008 journal, lumpy from two 8 x 11 sized papers folded in fourths. I had written my first poem on those papers at a workshop.
Denise Chavez, author of Face of An Angel, Loving Pedro Infante, Last of the Menu Girls, and two others, was the instructor of the first writing workshop I attended. Her instruction, her demeanor, and her passion were poetry in motion.
The first day was about getting in touch with our senses. We sketched, found our own talismans, went outside for a walk, and wrote.
On the second day, Ms. Chavez directed us to a small dictionary which sat in the middle of the desk. The task was to open the book at whim, and with closed eyes blindly select a word.
My word was in Latin. Thankfully, “Caveat Emptor*” was defined in English. This word was to serve as a prompt for a poem. I wrote it down, put it into my journal and forgot about it for six years. With a little revising, here it is:
alvaradofrazier.com 