poems by Joseph Fasano

Poem of the Week, by Joseph Fasano

Posted on by alisonmcghee

Click here to read more about my new novel Telephone of the Tree, which has received three starred reviews and is an Amazon Best Book of the Year. 

Sometimes I envy people who have a group of friends they do things with as a group over decades: book clubs, game nights, dinners, theater, music, a yearly fishing or camping trip. My friendships are deep and close and span decades but they’re mostly individuals here, couples there, spanning all ages and stations and places in life.

Once, in a hard time, I took a piece of scrap paper and wrote Who to Call at the top, followed by a list of friends. Most of the names on it came instantly, friends I’m always in touch with. Others were surprising –when was the last time we talked?– but then again not really, because we are connected at the core. Glancing at my Who to Call list reminds me I’m not alone, even when it feels like I am.

Love Poems to Our Friends, by Joseph Fasano

Where are the poems for those who know us?

Not for star-crossed loves,
for agonies of longing,
but words for those who go with us
the whole road.

How would they start, I wonder
You let me crash
when I was new to ruin.
You came to me   
though visiting hours were over.
You held me when my loves
were done, were flames.

Yes, we will lose a few
in the changes.
But these are the ones
who save us:
not the charmers,
not the comets of wild passion,
not the ups-and-downs of love’s unlucky hungers,

but the ones who stand
by our shoulder at the funeral
and lead us back to the land of the living
and put our favorite record on the player
and go away, and come back,
always come back,

with bread and wine
and one word, one word: stay. 

Click here for more information about Joseph Fasano. This poem first appeared on his Instagram page in 2024. 

alisonmcghee.com
My podcast: Words by Winter

Poem of the Week, by Joseph Fasano

Posted on by alisonmcghee

There’s still room in both our two remaining fall four-hour Zoom workshops: The Intuitive Leap on November 14, and Poetry, from Flicker to Flame, on November 17. Click here and scroll for all the details.

For me the moments of giving birth and adoption weren’t love, exactly, they were something way bigger than that. The instant knowledge, in my bones, that I’d do anything to keep this child alive. Give up my own life without hesitation. Protect this child against any threat, any danger. Do anything, anything to keep them safe, or make them feel safe. Even if I had to lie.

Words Whispered to a Child Under Siege 

No, we are not going to die.
The sounds you hear knocking the windows and chipping the paint
from the ceiling, that is a game
the world is playing.
Our task is to crouch in the dark as long as we can
and count the beats of our own hearts.
Good. Like that. Lay your hand
on my heart and I’ll lay mine on yours.
Which one of us wins
is the one who loves the game the most
while it lasts.
Yes, it is going to last.
You can use your ear instead of your hand.
Here, on my heart.
Why is it beating faster? For you. That’s all.
I always wanted you to be born
and so did the world.
No, those aren’t a stranger’s bootsteps in the house.
Yes, I’m here. We’re safe.
Remember chess? Remember
hide-and-seek?
The song your mother sang? Let’s sing that one.
She’s still with us, yes. But you have to sing
without making a sound. She’d like that.
No, those aren’t bootsteps.
Sing. Sing louder.
Those aren’t bootsteps.
Let me show you how I cried when you were born.
Those aren’t bootsteps.
Those aren’t sirens.
Those aren’t flames.
Close your eyes. Like chess. Like hide-and-seek.
When the game is done you get another life. 

Click here for more information on Joseph Fasano.


alisonmcghee.com
My podcast: Words by Winter

Poem of the Week, by Joseph Fasano

Posted on by alisonmcghee

I’d love to see you in our Freedom of Form workshop next Thursday, August 24. Four hours, $100 or pay as you’re able. Click and scroll for all the details. 

I volunteer as a trained crisis counselor via text. Everyone who reaches out to us is in pain, much of it hard to witness. The other day I talked with a teen who’s being bullied in a particularly vicious way. In our time together I shared resources and we brainstormed ways they could find relief and build connections. The teen’s quiet, hurting resolve went straight to my heart. Over and over I told them how courageous and self-aware they were.

What I wanted to do was hold that child close and reassure them they are perfect exactly as they are. In the days following our conversation I keep sending invisible messages to them through the invisible air, tiny lamps to light their way, hoping they can somehow feel the love beaming toward them.

Urgent Message to a Friend in Pain, by Joseph Fasano

I have to tell you
a little thing about living
(I know, I know, but hear me)
a little thing I’ve carried
in the dark:
Remember when you saw the stars of childhood,
when you knelt alone and thought
that they were there for you,
lamps that something held
to prove your beauty?
They are they are they are they
are they are.

Click here for more information about Joseph Fasano.

alisonmcghee.com
My podcast: Words by Winter

Poem of the Week, by Joseph Fasano

Posted on by alisonmcghee

Dear chatbot, please write a 1000-word essay about Alison McGhee’s novel What I Leave Behind, including the themes of the novel and the themes of her work in general. Note voice, style, tone, and anything that makes this novel unique. This was the assignment I gave to a chatbot a few months ago (and yes, I did say “Dear chatbot” and “please.” Because I’m polite.). The essay was finished in seconds. It was good, for the most part, articulate and careful and full of tender references to the narrator Will’s love and care for his little brother.

But no little brother exists in my novel. A crucial fact which no one who hadn’t read it would ever know.

We speed along, faster and faster and faster and faster, saving and saving and saving time. So much time saved. And so much lost along the way.

For a Student Who Used AI to Write a Paper, by Joseph Fasano

Now I let it fall back
in the grasses.
I hear you. I know
this life is hard now.
I know your days are precious
on this earth.
But what are you trying
to be free of?
The living? The miraculous
task of it?
Love is for the ones who love the work.

Click here for more information about Joseph Fasano.

alisonmcghee.com
My podcast: Words by Winter