poetry – Constance Kuntz

bembo – an imagined poetic conversation between renee & becca good

bembo

(an imagined poetic conversation between two goods) by Constance Kuntz

at the end of your life

amidst piercing screams

and screeching whistles

your soul whispers to mine

read to me

you ask me to read aloud

from our favorite book

on earth we’re briefly gorgeous

now? i ask

now, you whisper

time freezes –

it is still

in the snow

that coats our streets

and lines our trees

the screams, the whistles, the honks –

briefly silenced

by the ice, by ice

that noise – you say – belongs to someone else – not us

we take turns

reading to each other

until you say –

softly –

just you now; just you

when i get to the end

you smile –

keep reading

even the part ‘about the type’

the type, you say, is the best part

bembo i say –

it’s bembo

***

big boy shoots

horns honk

people swear

whistles blow

you smile

bembo?

suddenly and somehow

we are both laughing

i breathe in your soul

as you whisper mischief

about your favorite font

***

i swear everything

was your favorite

you found

the good in everything,

every one,

even me,

the moon to your sun

and i swear

they find the bad

in everything

every one

even us

even the moon and the sun

they pierced your perfect body

with bullets

they tried to

stain your luminosity

with your own blood

but your brightness

holds me

for a few shining seconds –

i’m more in love

with you than ever

i try to trick myself

into believing you’re back –

that we have more time –

but you whisper good bye

i say no! it’s just good night!

you rest your head on the pillow

the one with your favorite pillowcase

the one with roses on it

your dumb dog snuggles between us

safe and happy

***

but the blaring whistles wake me up

and i remember

it isn’t a pillow

it’s an airbag

and those aren’t roses

that’s your blood

and the dog isn’t snuggling

he’s nosing your body –

trying to wake you up

while a man shouts fucking bitch

while you whisper keep reading

bembo, i say, is a serif typeface,

named after the poet pietro bembo

bembo …

a whisper

a gasp

a breath

a tiny laugh

i ask what could possibly be so funny?

you smile and say nothing

and disappear

good bye

Four full moons – a haiku series

Daily writing prompt

What are you doing this evening?

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Tonight is the season opener of Naked Angels Tuesdays@9 Chicago and I’m excited! We’ve been off since May and have had four full moons since our last show. For every full moon, I wrote a haiku.

I always give Tuesdays@9 my “all” so by the end of every season, even though I am proud and grateful, I’m also thoroughly exhausted. Here’s the haiku I wrote on the May 23 full moon:

don't howl at the moon
when she's full -- she needs quiet
give her space

But after a couple weeks of recuperating, I was ready to be vulnerable and creative again. Here’s the haiku I wrote the night of the June 21 full moon.

the moon shows herself
fully once a month
i must do the same

In July, I focused on understanding the wild yet reliable nature of creativity. I wrote this haiku on the night of the July 21 full moon.

creativity 
is the moon and the moon is
creativity

That haiku is more of a mantra than a poem but at least it reminds me that my creativity — like the moon — is always there, waxing and waning, and part of something much bigger.

***

In August, I took at solo writing trip to Boston. Even though I have TSA Precheck, I was frisked at O’Hare security because the username on my phone’s flight app said “Connie” and my full name is “Constance.” As she patted me down, the agent told me, “The names have to match.”

Later, I arrived at my hotel in Boston.

“Hello. May I help you?”

“Hi! I’m here to check in. My name is Connie Kuntz.”

With absurd and short-lived glee, I slid my drivers license across the counter. I was ecstatic to be in Boston.

The concierge proceeded to look up my reservation.

With a troubled look on her face, she repeatedly looked at me, my ID and her computer screen. After a minute or two, she picked up her phone and called for backup. A woman came out from the back. As she walked to the counter, she made direct eye contact with me. I’m not sure why, but she scared the shit out of me.

Actually, I do know why. Several years ago I read Heads in Beds, a tell-all memoir about the hotel industry that convinced me that everyone in the hotel industry is a coke-head who hates their “guests.”

Anyway, when she arrived at the counter, she looked at her colleague’s computer screen, then at me, then at my ID, and finally muttered, “‘Connie’ is a nickname for ‘Constance.'”

The concierge looked at me and earnestly asked, “So what should I call you?”

I panicked and said, “Uhhhh….Constance?”

It didn’t feel right. First of all, I have successfully avoided saying “uh” for years. I was pissed at myself for breaking my “no ‘uh’ streak.” On top of that, I wanted to apologize to them and ask for forgiveness. I’ve felt silly about my name my whole life and suddenly found myself wondering why.

There’s nothing wrong with Constance but it does take up a little more space. Why is it so hard for me to make space for my own name?

On the night of the August 19 full moon, I decided it was time to fully embrace Constance so I wrote this haiku.

as the river flows
into the ocean, Connie
flows into Constance

So there you have it. Four haiku poems for the four full moons since Tuesdays@9 broke for the summer. And now you know what my plans are for tonight!

***

For the record, Constance is a work in progress. I still feel a surge of embarrassment and shame whenever someone calls me Constance but at the same time I also realize I am simply trying to flow into myself, into my truth. It’s not that radical a concept and I should have done this years ago. Right?

Thanks for reading. -Constance

But she knew how to use her imagination…

Happy Rockford Day.

Rockford Day takes place on the 15th day of the eighth month (8/15) and our main area code is 815. Now you know why today is Rockford Day.

The first Rockford Day took place in 2016. Since then, the city’s small businesses and non-profits have offered specials and discounted rates to celebrate the day. For instance, if you go to a local restaurant and if you say, “Happy Rockford Day” you’ll get a 8.15% discount off of your bill. If that doesn’t make you have 8.15 orgasms, I don’t know what will.

***

When I studied foreign languages in high school and college, the teachers and profs encouraged my classmates and me to choose names that reflected the language and culture we were learning. So in Spanish class, I was Constanza. In Greek class, I was Konstantina (Κωνσταντίνα). In Russian class, I was Konstancia (Констанция).

This wasn’t the same as being called “Punky” or “Muffy.” These weren’t nicknames, for crying out loud. These were cultural expressions. We were expected to think of ourselves — and each other — existing in the culture we were studying. There were giggles at first, but by the end of the year, we were addressing each other with serious respect and admiration for each other and the cultures we were studying.

***

Going from “Connie” to Constanza/Konstantina or Konstancia put a peculiar grit in my heart. It made me itch for something else, something beyond Rockford.

Being a foreign version of myself challenged me to think in new ways, not just about myself, but about my classmates, teachers and profs. There are still some classmates and teachers I automatically refer to in their “foreign” names. There’s Alexandros, Boris, Hermana, Mercedes, Rodrigo…to name a few. I may think of them very often, but when I do, I feel happiness for them. I also feel the grit shift a little bit in my heart, and I go back to longing for something beyond Rockford and Rockford Day.

***

A few days ago, I read the book Constancia and Other Stories for Virgins by Carlos Fuentes. I bought the used book from Powell’s Books Chicago simply because my name (a version of it) is in the title. You might consider this is egotistical. It is! But it’s also therapeutic and mind-opening, so if you ever see a book with your name (or a version of it) in the title, grab it!

Fuentes’s “Constancia” is a 61-year-old menopausal Andalusian who likes to take naps. I’m a 54-year-old perimenopausal Rockfordian who likes to take naps! I found myself laughing and sighing as I read her story and before I knew it, I was transported to that “place” that only exists when I think of myself by a foreign name, studying a foreign language. I love it so much.

Here is a short slideshow that explains what I mean:

***

My kids took ballet lessons for several years. They learned some French along the way and, for a short time, studied the language through Rosetta Stone, an online language-learning program. One early morning Angelo, then a very sleepy six- or seven-year-old, came down the stairs one step at a time. Before he reached the bottom, he paused and said, “Bon jour, Maman” in perfect French, then turned around and went back upstairs.

Since then I have never heard him utter a single word of French. Was he sleep-walking? Sleep-talking? It was a delightfully strange and fleeting moment. I saw him in a whole new light and was instantly reminded of that feeling of being in Spanish, Greek and Russian classes. Angelo starts high school this year and I was delighted to see that he signed up to take French.

***

Thanks for reading. I had to write this quickly because this Rockford Day, I’m going to Madison, Wisconsin! -Connie

P.P.S. I also studied Latin. I didn’t have a name but often went by “puella” which means “girl.”

He won’t believe it, not even in heaven

Bloganuary writing prompt

What are your favorite sports to watch and play?

View all responses

The morning after the Cubs won the 2016 World Series, I saw my neighbor in his front yard. I was neatening my little library and he was walking toward his car which was parked on the street. It was unusual for his car to be there. He usually parks in his driveway, which has a “Cubs Fan Only” sign in it.

“You must be in a pretty good mood today,” I said to him.

He crossed over to me and said, “I am.” He was smiling and looked joyous.

He shared with me me how he had “watched” the game with his adult daughters over the phone and how stressful and fun it was. He told me how happy they all were when the Cubs won. He was still smiling.

“I picked up a few extra copies of the paper this morning,” he said as he patted the newspaper that was tucked under his arm.

He told me he was on his way to meet his brother at their dad’s gravesite. He unfurled his newspaper. It had CUBS WIN plastered across the front page.

“I’m going to leave this for my dad,” he said. “He won’t believe it, not even in heaven.” And off he went.

I loved that moment, but I don’t watch or play sports or necessarily believe in heaven. But I love it when my friends’ and families’ teams win.

Thanks for reading. -Connie

P.S. I live in Rockford have been commuting weekly to Chicago for several years. It was fun to see the city skyline light up in different ways to support their team during the games.

Has pepper ever made you sneeze?

Today’s prompt: Where can you reduce clutter in your life?

I was thinking about the “clutter” prompt as I was cooking dinner (spaghetti and meatballs) this evening. I wanted to add a dash of pepper to my sauce so I reached for my pepper shaker. The moment I picked it up, the tiny plug fell out of the bottom and the pepper immediately poured out and made a mess. Not only that, it caused me to sneeze.

Don’t worry. They were cute, barely audible, miniature sneezes. More like sneezettes, really. The kind that makes you think, “Oh how whisper-like and adorable!”

While I was being dainty and feminine, it dawned on me that I really need to de-clutter my spice rack. Between sneezettes, I wondered “Why do I have three separate containers — and brands– of cumin?” and “I bought the garam marsala in the summer and have used it once. Will I ever use it again?” and “Didn’t I buy that cream of tartar at Byerly’s…when I lived in Minneapolis…more than twenty years ago…the first time I made snickerdoodles?”

Suffice to say, I’ve made plans to clean up my spice rack. Tomorrow morning, it’s going to sparkle! After that, I may move on to organize the coat closet or or clean out the fridge. It’s a brand new year, baby. Time to tidy!

Or not. Probably not.

It would appall you how much crap we have. Our mantle alone is filled with old mushrooms and that’s hardly the only place I feature “God’s art.” Every flat surface in this house features rocks, feathers, pine cones, leaves, twigs, horse chestnuts and old bird nests.

On top of that, we have art supplies, light bulbs, tools, old toys, puzzles, books, candles, flashlights, first aid kits, musical instruments, cables, batteries, extension cords, adapters and more situated throughout the house. We have a drawer filled with hot sauce packets…and nothing else. It’s fine. We’re weird, I don’t care and I don’t mind the clutter.

Thanks for reading! -Connie

P.S. Until tonight, I thought pepper-induced sneezing was something that only happened in cartoons. I’m going to tell you the truth: It’s much cuter when it’s Tom (the gray cat from Tom & Jerry) sneezing, versus, say, a 54-year-old Rockford woman.

P.P.S. If you’re wondering, the spaghetti dinner was ruined from the pepper and sneezing so I ended up serving egg rolls and leftover mashed potatoes.

Mary Oliver’s ‘soft animal’

Today’s Prompt: What is your favorite animal?

My favorite animal is the “soft animal” that Mary Oliver wrote about in her poem, “Wild Geese.” Maybe you don’t know the poem, but you’ve probably heard the line, “You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.”

Isn’t that just perfect?

The first time I read the poem, I instantly felt my soft animal roll through my belly like a warm, slow, viscous wave.

It’s been decades since we first met, but the animal still rolls through me from time to time, reminding me that I am so, so alive.

Here’s Mary Oliver’s poem. -Connie

Wild Geese

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

-Mary Oliver (1935-2019)

P.S. This post is part of the 2024 #bloganuary challenge. I can’t write every day this year, as I have the last two years, but I will participate when time allows.

Ironically, wild geese are *not* my favorite animal, but darnit, look at those goslings!

No Mess Left Behind

Today’s prompt: Write a short story or poem about rain.

Rain Delay
 
rain leaked into the 
House this week, falling faster 
than we could catch it 

Rain Dance

eventually 
it let up and the reigning 
Speaker is dancing

Afterparty Cleanup

while the rest of us
clean up the mess the Grand Old 
Party left behind

Thanks for reading!

Yours in Haiku,

Connie

I’m just going to listen to your heart

I had a doctor appointment today so I wrote a haiku sequence. Also, I don’t have a picture from my appointment so I’m using this 2016 photograph of my husband pretending to be doctor. I believe the character’s name was “Dr. Douche.” Anyway, it’s poem time.

1.
i like the light touch 
of the stethoscope on my
chest and back, each tap

2.
a gentle chill 
going to the doctor can 
be nice if you just...

3.
take a deep breath  
i'm just going to listen 
to your heart and lungs

4.
i overdo it
inhale a good five seconds
longer than i should

5.
and hold it in for
far too long before i dra-
matically exhale!

6.
just breathe in and out
he says, breathe normally now
i've forgotten how

Thank you for reading my blog. Writing it is as easy as breathing in and out. -Connie

Day and night

Here’s some haiku poetry about our backyard. I wrote it today because last night I woke to the sounds of screeching raccoons scaling my neighbor’s tree.

Hear my poem.

Day

a choir of tulips 
turns to the sun and opens  
wide to sing and shine

Dusk

flowers fold their
fingers neatly 
into their laps 

Night

close your eyes
disappear 
into yourself


3:00 a.m.

raccoons hunt for mice
instead come face to
face with a fox 

3:01 a.m.
 
lungs and eyes
screech and scream as they
scale a tree to safety

3:05 a.m.

fox flees and 
the family descends the tree
slower going down than up

3:06 a.m. 
i close the window and turn
my back to nature 
hide under my pillow

Thanks for reading my blog and / or listening to my podcast. -Connie

Editor’s Note: Haiku is not limited to the 5-7-5 syllable structure.

For Nerds Only: Hear raw audio of the raccoons in my yard!

Two for tea

My son has been sick for the past three days. A poem.

No fever 
but a sore 
throat and cough
at night which
is when it
feels the worst
mentally
for him and
me

negative
test result
does little 
to soothe the
soul but hot
tea is the
remedy
for him and
me

Thanks for reading my blog. Hope we can share a cup of tea some day! -Connie

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