The Long Poem about my Brother

I'm working on either a very long poem, or a series of poems that would live in a section or even become an entire chapbook. All about my brother. My older brother, by 4 years, was always an intense guy: brilliant, talented, charming, funny. And angry. He and I grew a lot closer when I went to college and was at home still trying to figure out what he wanted to be when he grew up. We had many epic conversations about philosophy, religion, literature, art. Enriching chats that could last 5 or more hours and into the wee hours of the morning. He was the one who suggested I change my major from Art Education to Creative Writing when he saw that that's all I did in my free time.

He grew distant and then suddenly wouldn't speak to me. He moved out (not far) but he wanted no contact with any of us for about 12 years. In that time, we didn't know his mental health was breaking down and he was developing schizophrenia. There is quite a long story (one I'm trying to tell in this series of poems) from there to today. As far as we know, he's homeless in L.A. somewhere. When my father died, we tried desperately to find him, hiring a professional heir search firm. They found only remnants of him.

It's a heartbreaking story. It's complicated. It's frightening. The story continues to feel very active. And I know so little of his experience from 2000 on.

So. With all of that said, trying to write this experience is very emotional. When I learned, quite by accident, that Anne Carson had a similar experience with her brother and wrote a book about it, Nox, I ran to the library (not far, as I work there). It's gorgeous and abstract and inspiring and long.

I am settling in to the fact that this project will not be done quickly. I can't work on it too long or too frequently because of the heartache around it. But, when I'm working on it, I feel connected to him and back in the love we shared too. Long poems are different animals than regular-size-poems; I can't quite see the whole of it at one time which is a new challenge. Taking cues from Carson's book, I am trying not to 'sense-make' as much as I normally do. Nox really washes over you, as much of Carson's work does. I don't generally write poems that wash over readers so I'm dabbling in that here. It's rewarding work, even in this languid pace. It's also forcing me to slow down which is always good.