LOL, I’ve been sitting here for 5 minutes before a fresh ‘blog post screen, my hands folded before me on the desk, a serious look on my face, remembering the posts I’ve just read from others, and trying to conjure up (or at least decide upon) a writing subject.
What would you like to hear about? Split-second miraculous visions in or as if in a dark room’s mirror, living in a working class neighborhood each time we moved to try to be safer from my father’s nocturnal break-ins, possible tales of my future working self, or how much I miss being gentle? It happened, once — four times. (Five, counting the compromised grandchild. Actually, I melted into oblivion then, but so gently, I’m surprised as well as grieved that it didn’t take.) Indeed, the word has been on my mind.
Maybe it’s why I’ve always loved this.. I inadvertently shopped with his wife, and just as inadvertently sat often with himself, both at Mass and at Confession (and never could anyone look more guilty than he). I’m just lucky, I guess. 🙂 Have a nice remainder of our Monday.
(From “New Poems 2004 – 2005”)
In Praise of Craziness, of a Certain Kind
On cold evenings
with ownership of half her mind —
the other half having flown back to Bohemia —
spread newspapers over the porch floor
so, she said, the garden ants could crawl beneath,
as under a blanket, and keep warm,
and what shall I wish for, for myself,
but, being so struck by the lightning of years,
to be like her with what is left, that loving.
New and Selected Poems, Volume Two – Beacon Press, Boston (2005)
A bobcat crossed the road in the early dark, over on the country road I take whenever there’s a way to do so. Since this amazingly unexpected sighting’s been passed around, I’ve heard of others in recent years in the same general area.
It’s funny; I’ve come out of work last, and late enough to be the only one around, and I’ve felt something watching. Usually I think it’s the coyotes I’ve heard; could even be the raccoons whose little kiss-sound conversation I interrupted one night not long ago. I’m always hoping it’s not a fisher, but I never suspected it could be a big cat!
Yes, in the early dark with the snow glistening in the lane and over the hills under silent moonlight is the time of year in New England that always reminds me of one of Robert Frost’s most memorable and sometimes melancholy poems.
He needed no compass… but neither did his little horse, really. 🙂
I’m going out to clean the pasture spring; I’ll only stop to rake the leaves away (And wait to watch the water clear, I may): I sha’n’t be gone long.—You come too. I’m going out to fetch the little calf That’s standing by the mother. It’s so young, It totters when she licks it […]
via I Sha’n’t Be Gone Long — You Come Too — Barnstorming
Poets and Writers reports that “A group of literary journals—including Scoundrel Time, Bat City Review, and Poetry Northwest—have joined together to publish the poetry of Liu Xia, the wife of Liu Xiaobo, a Nobel Peace Prize laureate and Chinese dissident who died on July 13 while in custody of the Chinese government for advancing pro-democracy beliefs. Xia, who […]
via Don’t let the Chinese government erase Liu Xia. Read her poems. — Tribrach: for those who love (or would like to love) poetry