I like a good quote -

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.

I John 1:1 (NIV)

Or how’s about two for good measure:

“Words are, in my not-so-humble opinion, our most inexhaustible source of magic. Capable of both inflicting injury, and remedying it.”

- Albus Dumbledore, played by Michael Gambon (2011)

Writing Blue was a blessing. I didn’t name the collection until the day I decided to finally assemble it on 12/20/2020, but I always knew the cover would feature my Karner blue butterfly globe. It is one of my trophies, a gift given to me by a counselor who helped me take my power back from PTSD over the course of 2019. Without having done the work overcoming that battle, I’m not sure how I would have fared in what I think we can all agree has just been a bizarre year.

I wrote nearly fifty poems in the twelve months of 2020, which is more writing than I’ve been able to pull off in years. But not nearly all of them made the collection. Some are just plain bad reading, while others are only for me or a few close others. The twenty included in Blue aren’t just the poems I thought were the best, but the poems that surprised me, or tied me to the dock of peace and strength when the waves of sorrow and worry tried to sink me. I thought a lot about Indiana because for the first time in my life I don’t live there, and for those who don’t know, I love my home state. Indeed, I am of Indiana.

So first, Blue is for all you hoosiers at home — and I mean the whole dang state, not just IU (Boilerup!), but of course I include y’all from the tip-top of the Dunes to the unglaciated central-southern lands of mystical Pawnee. I was born in the capitol city of the Crossroads of America (true story!). I wouldn’t be here without all the fokes I love at home.

Starting grad school in Missouri during the first wave of a global pandemic was cray. Then halfway through the semester, I survived an encounter with a deranged naked stranger (definitely the craziest thing to happen in 2020, in my opinion), and PTSD burrowed in me for a minute. But thanks to therapy (and my Karner blue), I knew what to do, and I’m more than okay today! And finally in August, AJ and I followed our wits to Iowa, and the best part is: I love it here too. It’s no Indiana, but I really think our fokes and these folx would get along.

None of these poems would have ever been written without my grandmother’s spirit to guide me. She taught me to hush and hear her nearness — she meets me soundly as a butterfly landed on my sleeve. I like to wear my “Nanny rings” when I write (all sterling silver, one she bought me on every Black Friday since 2006), and someday I’ll write a story that can possibly encompass the wisdom, love, and courage of Good Ann Wood’s last words for me:

“Kailey, honey, how’s your finger?”

- Ann Wood (4/30/2019)

Blue was named for the Karner blue butterfly (as alluded previous this), an endangered beauty you can still see in places like the Indiana Dunes, where I went to most of elementary school and wound up working in tourism all of 2018–19. The top of Devil’s Slide at the state park and Cowles Bog in the national park make my top ten list of favorite places in Indiana. I don’t know who I’d have been were it not for the Dunes; they shaped so much of me, and I will write with my joy and hope for their preservation.

By writing these poems, I won many battles I might have otherwise lost in 2020. I fought against words that turned my stomach due to new current-contexts on the news, blue and red ties and suits and what-have-you. I believe that a word contains all the power I give to it. God as my witness, I gave Jesus more power this year than any year I’ve lived before, and this — Blue — is just a blip of the plan he’s got for me.

May sound strange, but without this book, I didn’t know if there’d be a next… Now I know.

Undoubtedly, Blue (and all the rest of it!) wouldn’t be here without the unshakable support of my AJ — and it wouldn’t be nearly as cool without my nifty Super Sterling Smith-Corona typewriter. Without you babe, none of it. I’m here for it, and I love you.

Finally, thank YOU, and happy reading!

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@bykaileyann

HEDERAREADS.COM

Order Blue: Twenty Poems From 2020 @bykaileyann in Paperback:

https://www.amazon.com/Blue-Twenty-Kailey-Ann-Capuano/dp/B08RRFXQXL/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=blue%3A+twenty+poems+from+2020+kailey+ann&qid=1619901904&sr=8-1

For Nanny ~

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@bykaileyann

HEDERAREADS.COM

Written @bykaileyann | Read during the funeral of Lynette Ann Wood

* * * * *

Link to Obituary: https://www.flinnmaguire.net/obituary/lynette-wood

“Lynette Ann Sanders Wood, 82, of Franklin passed away peacefully on Wednesday, May 1, 2019, surrounded by family. She was born in White River Township, Johnson Co., Indiana on November 24, 1936, to Charles William Sanders and Mildred V. (Batton) Sanders.

She graduated from Franklin Community High School in 1955. She attended Franklin College and was a member of Delta Delta Delta sorority.

She served 24 years as Needham Township Deputy Trustee and assessor and 40 years in manufacturing, governmental and general accounting. She retired from Fleetwood Accounting in 2002. She belonged to the First Presbyterian Church in Franklin, Indiana, and was a part of the Presbyterian Women. She was a past President of Kappa, Kappa, Kappa, and a Tri Delta Alumnae, a member of the National Federation of Republican Women, a 50 year member of the Order of Eastern Star #439, and the Franklin Elks BPOE #1818. She enjoyed playing bridge, growing tomatoes, and spending time with her family. She will be remembered for her love of sports, her wit, her strong heart, and the traditions and values she instilled in her family.

She is survived by her children, Deborah(Lynn), Pamela (Brent), Leslie, and Cheryl (Kevin); her 10 grandchildren: Adam (Dana), Sarah (Casey), Marcus (Brandi), Michael (Lauren), Bailey (Eric), Benjamin, Kailey (AJ), Maggie (Brandon), Riley, and Avery; and 15 great grandchildren: Austin, Kaitlyn, Elizabeth, Levi, Madelynn, Ethan, Jett, Kinsley, Baylor, Cooper, Jacob, Evan, Emerson, Hayden, and William.

She was preceded in death by her parents and brother, Charles Sanders.

Rev. Peter Jessen will conduct a Celebration of Ann’s life on Sunday, May 5, 2019 at 4:00 p.m. at the First Presbyterian Church, 100 E. Madison Street in Franklin. Friends and family may call from 2:00 p.m. until the time of service at the church.

In lieu of flowers, memorial contributions were made to the First Presbyterian Church, 100 E. Madison Street in Franklin, Indiana, USA.

Online tributes and other expressions of kindness are appreciated ~ ”

* * * * *

Read during a Celebration of Ann’s life on Sunday, May 5, 2019 near 4:00 p.m. at the First Presbyterian Church, 100 E. Madison Street in Franklin.

KAILEY

--> Nanny isn’t what I’d describe as a “typical” grandma, but she’s the only grandma I ever had, and because of that, she made sure I never doubted how much she loved me. She took me to the old Franklin Fashion Bug for my birthday every year to buy me a “sexy” pair of jeans—when I was 12, I was particularly uncomfortable with that compliment, but to this day, I can’t buy a pair of jeans without hearing her voice in my head. In 8th grade, I rode the bus to her house every day after school, and we would just sit and talk at the kitchen table, or on the couch with golf on in the background, while she shared her wealth womanly wisdom with me. Nanny, or “Nanno” as Maggie and I always called her, was not one for coddling, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t comforting. When I cried about my middle school boyfriend kissing another girl, she told me it was better to learn early that men could be dirtbags, but that I was beautiful and strong, and I would find someone better. When I had fights with friends or family members, she would listen all the way through and then tell me, “Now you know you’re being stubborn honey. You have the power to make it better,” which is ALWAYS what I needed to hear. When I introduced her to my husband, AJ, for the first time, with ABSOLUTELY no context, she told him all about a certain vulgarly named shot she is known for throwing back at the Willard every year, and after he walked away wide-eyed and laughing, she grabbed my wrist and said, “Now he’s the one, isn’t he honey?” Seeing her do her little Nanny jig with AJ at our wedding will always be one of my favorite memories. There are so many stories I could share, but I’ll just wrap it up by saying this: My atypical grandma was always, ALWAYS, putting others first. On her last day, when she could barely speak, she sat up abruptly to ask me clearly, “Kailey honey, how’s your finger?” I had gone to the ER for stitches a few days ago, and even in her final few hours, she used her energy to make sure that I was okay. That’s just who she was.Thank you for showing me what a strong, independent, courageous, woman looks like.

Oh, Nanno, I miss you so much already. I will carry your name with pride for the rest of my life. I love you so much.

* * * * *

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@bykaileyann

HEDERAREADS.COM

I write;

it's the only way I know that works

Good words

stamped into a page

or penned on any piece of paper

I can reach

I'm reaching

out, or -

my wits' end

they feel the same

Maybe the end of my wits is where

wisdom stays

Waiting

for me to say It's Finished

I can't say I'm done today

I'm not

A thought reaches

for my mind that can't catch it

my heart wants what it wants so -

I'll grasp with the strings

Blessing or curse?

I'll laugh through my nose

at the latter

for the year named Hindsight

liked to pick at all those virtues

I thought I was good at performing -

Patience ebbs, but I

Perservere

Revere all the wrong stuff till I

get checked, get flipped

right-side up.

Less is more,

So I keep writing.

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@bykaileyann

This is novel

New

Here I am

Pen in hand

Part head, heart

Spelled out plainly

Ink on a sheet of paper

How many centuries

Did women fight

So I could be

Hear, my voice on the page

How many stories, faded

May be remembered

By my hand?

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@bykaileyann

Recovered, my mind could hope;

great thinking often grows by

inculcating* truths.

We become convinced that I

force expression upon my will.

The time I imagine as words:

This was me.

* * * * *

/ n o t a r e

Link to source, The Female American; Or, the Adventures of Unca Eliza Winkfield

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/444812.The_Female_American_Or_the_Adventures_of_Unca_Eliza_Winkfield

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@bykaileyann

Time, times and half a time

Year, two years and half a year

12 months, 24 months and six months

360 days, 720 days and 180 days

A ‘month’ was lunar

There are always 30 days in a month

Using the definition which applies

To the text as written then

Context untaught

When knowledge was bought

Wisdom then

Some trivial pursuit

When cutt off from the root.

The stump remains.

We can remember the taste of the fruit

Under the shade of our favorite apple tree

And if you’re like me

Remember how high you climbed

How far you could see

See some of those trees in your mind

The ones that fell in the road

Or downed a power line

In a good storm

Don’t all things die

At least, all things that live?

What good would it do

to leave a big branch in the road?

Do you need to see the tree to remember

The taste of golden apples?

The roots remain, unseen.

Regard the stump.

* * * * *

/ n o t a r e

Daniel 1-8 (NIV)

https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Daniel%201&version=NIV

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@bykaileyann

"Poor thing, you woke up

in a tree that was burning.

Climbed high dear, didn't you?

because you can,

because you always do.

That's the thing about scale:

way up there,

you see the world turning.

because you can, and you do

Clear as yellow leaves twirling down to

the ground in the Fall.

Are't you queer?

always gazing

always praising

always tripping over every

thing in plain sight.

Nothing wrong with the nest,

Sweet Worry-Warbler,

or aren't you grateful

for the roof over your head

beneath my window?

Find another view

because you can

because you do

because you need to get to grips

with the deal.

Papers signed:

great important powerful people

shook on it.

See: It's a controlled burn;

it's a shame that spot you like

has got to go

where the pinecones grow like

mistletoe,

But anywho, Miss:

It's time to find somewhere

else to play."

"MIGHTN'T YOU HAVE CALLED

ME DOWN FROM THERE,

SIR,

BEFORE YOU BEGAN

BURNING?"

* * * * *

/ n o t a r e

Speaker 1 - Sam Cimber, Special Forces Cmdr. in The Seraph

Speaker 2 - Arella Ora, the 'Girl With Light In Her Eyes'; Or, Arella Ora, Protagonist in

The Seraph - https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/41572645-the-seraph

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@bykaileyann

As a girl I thought

That I could ask the winds to change direction

That I could fix the tree trunk that snapped

Just by mixing up a potion

And saying some magic words that sounded

More like praying than anything else.

Did it work?

Was it just my imagination or

Did my kite take flight when I begged the winds to pick it up?

Did I really see that sapling heal over green

After I'd sprinkled it with my special tincture

From the empty glass vanilla bottle

I took from the spice cabinet shelf?

Maybe it was all in my head;

I was only a kid after all;

But my mind's eye and memories tell a story

That makes me smile

Because even if the winds have no mind at all,

It sure felt like they moved for me

Maybe just because I believed.

* * * * *

/ n o t a r e

A brief note from the author - Let it be known that my mom, Bird, says this is my best poem.

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@bykaileyann

Point;

colors quadruple, canopy

Duck and ever hear

hush-hush

Talking;

pure vapor

Shadows crossed over

sideways

A new wrinkle;

aliveness

Wake and ask,

"Why must _____?"

* * * * *

/ n o t a r e

"Found" in a chapter titled, "How to Tell a True War Story," in a book called, The Things They Carried, by Tim O'Brien.

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/133518.The_Things_They_Carried

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@bykaileyann