Nerissa Nields

The Road and The Vaster Wilds: Anti-Odysseys (Part 3 in an ongoing series)

By happenstance, I read Cormac McCarthy’s 2007 apocalyptic novel The Road and followed it with Lauren Groff’s latest, The Vaster Wilds. It was September, technically still summer, but both of these novels take place in life-threateningly cold weather, and each author made me feel that cold, that terror of being consumed by the natural world, an awareness of the scarcity of essential resources, the distrust of other human beings–even our intimates. As I revisit these novels today, fittingly on Halloween, when the air in Massachusetts has grown chill and my body continues to fight against that novel corona virus, I find myself sharing some of these primal fears. When the terrain is unknown and the enemy invisible, who and what can we trust?

River Roads

Here’s the strange thing about me: I can completely forget I’m a musician until I arrive at the gig. It’s as though that part of me is a set of clothes for another season, kept in a moth-proof box in the attic, out of mind until the weather changes.

Thoughts After Listening to a Podcast Interview of Tricia Hersey

Raising a child in America is an act of violenceEverything from the crashing together of the two cells(To say nothing of the act that caused that unionWhether it involved a…

Firstborn

This is poem #28 out of my 30 poems, and I would so so so so appreciate it if you would support the amazing organization and community at Center for New Americans. Why? Because they are a non-profit adult education center that provides the under-served immigrant, refugee and migrant communities of Massachusetts’ Pioneer Valley with education and resources to learn English, become involved community members and obtain tools necessary to maintain economic independence and stability. Because love your neighbor as yourself. Because we are all neighbors. Please support my efforts by contributing to this wonderful organization via my pledge page.

Spelunking

See the world through your new pair of glasses: 
Only what is visible 
Through this rectangle.
This is your subject. 
Now, you may travel the world
To gain a new perspective
Or you can stay home, practice spelunking.
And when your child comes to you and announces
Their path is not your path…

Dialogue

[h/t Austin Kleon, post “Seeing is Forgetting the Name of the Thing One Sees” here. Also inspired by quotation from AF: “My Higher Power can see everything in all directions, and I need that wisdom today.”]

Sheath

Before I knew its name, I knew the laurel bushBy its gnarled branches, as bent as my grandmother’s hands,The space it made for a three-year-old’s fort. I knew its flowers…

The Surprising Cure for My A.D.D.

My poem came from Sarah Sullivan’s prompt to “copy” the poem “Small Talk” by Kirsten Shu-yin Chen. As listeners to my band The Nields know, I am a big fan of borrowing/stealing the forms and tropes of others to make something new of my own.

By the way, I have been using that Pilates bar regularly, and to give credit where it’s due, I’ll say that I got it from a company called “Stretched Fusion.” They did not pay me to say this. And if they offered me big bucks for endorsing them, I would take the money and run.

Now and Then

Sing to me, Muse, of complicated men
Take me down to the ground floor, 
Repossess my all-access pass

Gratitude

For the month of November, I write a poem a day to support the efforts of the Center for New Americans. Please support my efforts by contributing to this wonderful organization via my pledge page.