Traveling to Oz
At a poetry critique this week, led by Michael Goldman (from Straw Dog Writers Guild in Northampton, MA), he shared something that former U.S. Poet Laureate Billy Collins mentioned: “A poem should begin in Kansas and end in Oz.”
The point is that a good poem (however you or I or anyone might define that) often opens with some observation of something ordinary, be it a thought, or observation in nature or overheard… and the poem takes readers on a journey from there to something unexpected.
Michael likes to say a poem needs a solid landing. A twist, an irony, or unexpected idea.
This makes me embrace a challenge not just on the page or screen, but in life: we start each day with banal waking routines (brush teeth, sip coffee, read our news feed, maybe a crossword puzzle). Then, instead of just going about our day on auto-pilot, we make an effort to infuse some actions and thoughts with an intention to make our day special in some way. Maybe we call an old friend or relative we haven’t been in touch with for a while and that brightens both our days. Or, after taking in often depressing/scary news, we turn on some dance music and let our bodies loose for a song or two, which injects energy and optimism, reduces stress or pain (by pumping blood to joints and muscles that ache when we are inactive). Maybe we clean out a “junk drawer” and find something precious we’d lost.
Poetry, for me, is one of the wonders of the universe. But so is each day. The miracle of just waking up once again, having an opportunity, no matter what illness or problems we face, to take a few minutes not just to recite some gratitude list (which I believe is a great practice), but to create something new for which we can feel grateful.
I plan to review the eighty-plus poems I’ve posted since I started this Substack Sept. 1, 2025, to see which ones end in Oz. Maybe I’ll rewrite some poems that don’t accomplish that. Also, I’ve begun recording myself reading poems I’ve posted. I find I best understand a writer’s poem when I read along as that writer recites it. Their pauses and inflections helps me grok their meaning and emotional impact.
I’d love you to share, in comments below, an “Oz” you experienced on a recent day, and what practice or thought process brought you there?
