In the strange grace, Phoebe McAdams quietly made a call, we found the connection in the usual

Phoebe MacAdams' latest poetry collection, Cahuenga Press, Strange grace Starting with introductions and works prayer:

Behind the eyes
Is a way of sound,
The old people muttered and sang.
...
Come to me
Come to me in the ordinary.

It is a call to the sound of poetry, it only requires the ability to name what you see. The advantage of Phoebe MacAdams writing is simplicity. The first part of the book is titled from

Los Angeles And McAdams immediately took us into Los Angeles. Arroyo:

Nature: We can count on it here,
What loves this difficult place.

15 minutes from downtown Los Angeles
Is a meadow
Sometimes I go there

But this work is not just about Los Angeles and its green pockets - it's about learning how to coexist with beauty and knowledge, beauty is not only rare and hidden, but also short-lived. All holy devices Most effective in evoking balance:

The beauty of the flower
Flowering in winter,
We are getting old
Ways in Southern California:
Warm November,
Cool night.

Flowers and death hand in hand
In the season of the soul;
During Dias de los Muertos
The arm of death is full of flowers,
Marigold is provided for each skeleton.

When I read these poems, I became the poet of her world - moving in her days - changing consciousness so that she could walk out of her own way to name what she saw in the material world, while presenting her to her. The idea is just a container from the line. Stainless steel waiting It's one of my favorite works because it captures our fears and expectations as a writer - worrying that we can't fully express a moment of transcendence, that is, seeing the whole in a short space-time window, and expecting us to close When you arrive, then listen:

Not always, but sometimes I will despair.
Sometimes deeply unworthy,
Inside is stainless steel, etc.

The second part of the book, Two poems Take us out of Los Angeles and enter the coastal mountains just a few hours drive from the hotel. The first tells of the devastating fire that swept through Ojai [and other communities] in 1985. These fires are so common in Southern California that they rarely have their mark in the fall. The Wheeler Fire, Ojai 1985 It's a powerful work, but it's consistent with what McAdams led us. Here's a poem. Kirk Creek Gives the things, time and ability that the coastal camps provide us, reflect on the healing effects of nature, the revival of hope, the connections we feel in a world without concrete intersections. MacAdams lists everything she left in a constantly challenging LAUSD teaching world and then found through frustration:

... students look at the expression of dolphins and water
We said around the boat in Catalina:
"Water, water, everywhere, not a drop of water!
I understand, miss! "

She keeps

...the students are happily sliding the scene
Enter the clear stream, laugh.

In 颂 She is in her own quiet place, but this work clearly shows that this is the secret she is willing to share.

Some crazy artists come here again to make his work
Anonymous sculpture
Then disappeared on the coast.

Praise the creativity of the land and the water
Play in the kelp.

In the third part of the book Diary: 3.13.05 - 7.11.06 MacAdams moved from the outside to the inside. Nature appears in memory and in the comfort of a single bloom. She wrote, lost - first the poet passed away, the most famous is Robert Creeley, who taught us how to live as a poet in the world of family and friends, and then the mother's personal loss. These are the most effective parts of the book. They marry what they saw in the first part and our ability to retain the second part of the content in the internal dialogue - claiming to only want peace but a series of wh h h h h h mind mind mind mind mind mind mind. McAdams is quiet in the festival of small gatherings - she now knows and is very concerned about the "now" of this moment. March 13, 2005

My husband and I wash clothes,
Discussed our students
Anticipation
And dinner, chicken and artichokes.
These warm little days are moving forward
One poem at a time.

This is the conventional world where death enters, slipping in the slippers and losing something. August 16, 2005

Enter the trash can
Mom's lipstick is heartbreaking
Carry,
Sea shells on the gold line,
Photo of mermaid and relatives...

The ghost is now very close to me;
We often talk
In mysterious tones
Recently passed away.
I reached out and grabbed them with my ears.

McAdams allowed us to read her poetry diary, and through the usual days, as a teacher who had no school district to support her life, as a good neighbor, she has been defeating the heart of the orphans below. March 10, 2006

There is a tree in midwinter
I remember it late at night.
I have rain on my mind,
The weather is dark and desolate.
I am alone, the black sky.
And branch memory

This memory is in the details of life, counted in observation and continuous attention. Earlier, I said that the poet McAdams, who has died, wrote May 6, 2005

Poetry persistence
For itself, for me, it
Discipline weaving
Enter my life,
Enter the world
Spirit; voice
We are not alone,
They whisper from the depths

This is what I got from it. Strange grace, the connection with the city and its pockets of life, the recognition of its inhabitants [humans and others] and the sound of their noise - from

"Come to me in the ordinary".

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