as a modern dancer with the Carol Conway Dance Company in Manhattan. Later, she worked with Richard Lewis, the author and early childhood educator, teaching dance, movement, puppetry and poetry in elementary school workshops throughout the New York area. from Post-Bulletin: Caren Acker--Rochester
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Caren was my best friend in high school. We shared the small adventures of girlhood in a safe suburban community. We stayed in close communication when we went off to college in the late sixties. We visited each other regularly for about ten years. We had a lot of fun in New York City. Then we each married and had jobs and the speed of life picked up so much that we slowly drifted apart. Sometime in the late eighties we lost touch with each other completely.
Over the ensuing years I have occasionally thought about looking for Caren so that we could reconnect and learn about each others lives. This is the year that I finally began to look for her. When I Googled her name I found this obituary. I am so sorry that she has died, but I am gratified to know that she lived a creative life.
One By One
I stood there
watching the swans
leaving the water,
each one was lovely
beyond the skill
of my words.
I knew they
were taking my heart,
my blood flowed
to them
and through them
rising with their flight.
The feeling
was painful I think,
but I threw my head back
and grimaced with ecstasy;
now tell me there's sense
in that.
O you out there
with the years blowing
like a heavy wind,
life is something
other than what we desire.
What can be said
between you and I?
Our bodies scream
with feeling
as we step like addicts
into the intensity
of the fire.
skipper schnaithmann
I first met Caren in January 1970 at Indiana University of Pennsylvania where we were both freshman students. Caren was a sudden inspiration for me; with the jolt she provided to me she transformed my poetry. She was a good friend and companion, and a great dancer.
I wrote this poem after I had dropped out of college and had stopped by to visit. When I read some new experimental poems to Caren she was so upset she stood up and walked away. The swans in the poem are Caren walking away from me, playing over and over in my mind.
She was my muse.
She still is.
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