A Poet’s Necessity


Hello friends,

I’m thinking about poetry this week, mostly because the great writer, teacher, and activist Nikki Giovanni died at the age of 81.

Poetry was the constant companion of my childhood, teens, and twenties. I read poetry voraciously, and wrote. I always wrote. I stood up in cafés and bars and read my words out loud, testing my voice and shaping my world.

I still read and write poetry occasionally, but even when I don’t, poetry has formed me. My breaths are marked in meters and my eye catches rain on leaves in a way only a poet can.

Nikki Giovanni was one of the poets who influenced my youth. She wrote of simple things and grand things. She wrote about falling in love, relationships, and place. She wrote about revolution and social systems, honeysuckle and the stars. She wrote about being Black and a woman in the US. She wrote about history and math and physics, and the ways they fill our bodies and our lives.

sometimes after midnight or just before
the dawn
we sit typewriter in hand
pulling loneliness around us
forgetting our lovers or children
who are sleeping
ignoring the weary wariness
of our own logic
to compose a poem
no one understands it…

Giovanni showed how the smallest things resonate out to the largest, and how vastness dances with the minute. I drank those lessons in on her words.

Yes, poetry formed me, and for that, I feel grateful.

Thank you, Nikki Giovanni. May you rest in peace. Your words live on.

Best wishes - Thorn


Want some gentle insight? The You Are the Spell oracle deck and book offers poetic, meditative food for thought.

T. Thorn Coyle

Read more from T. Thorn Coyle
A slightly blurred photo of a creamy white cabbage butterfly on a lavender stalk.

Hello friends, I wrote this week’s newsletter in advance, because I’m camping with no cell service. It’s so good for my psyche to disconnect from electronics, stare at mountains, and walk along streams for a week. I’m a mind-racer, and this disconnection—like meditation or prayer—helps slow me down inside. The meditation on nature is always a gift to me, even in the small city where I live. For example, on the summer solstice, it was cool enough for me to take a long afternoon walk. I headed...

Photo: Dirty sidewalk. A broken brick painted with the pale pink and blue stripes of the Trans Pride flag.

Hello friends, It’s Pride weekend, and I’m thinking of all the brave people who fought so hard to be allowed to simply exist. And I think of those who are still fighting, myself included. Do we want to fight? No. We’d rather just live our lives, do our work, laugh with friends, raise families, read books, and tend our gardens. Just like immigrants and other people under attack do. “The first Pride was a riot,” it is often said, and whether something is called a riot or an uprising depends on...

A bee on a creamy yucca blossom, half hidden by the other blooms.

Hello friends, The yuccas are in full bloom right now, with dense clusters of creamy blossoms heavy as bells on tall stalks. This type of yucca is a spiky, unassuming plant when not in bloom, and then _bam_there is an astonishing wealth of flowers. While walking to a writing date the other week, I paused at a large grouping of these flowering plants, growing on the edge of a parking lot behind a chain link fence. The blossoms were buzzing with the activity of industrious bees. I paused a...