Sunday, November 29, 2009
So far NY has said nix to frost so the tomatoes, blessem, are still growing. Not tasty anymore but as beautiful as any well-cared for parkinglot (have you seen A Serious Man?). Pictured here is a white yellow variety that in the flanken of summer was as delicious as the true fruit each of us was promised upon Edenic arrival, and behind it a little "sweet million" cherry tomato.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
In the middle of the road of my life
I awoke in the dark wood
where the true way was wholly lost
I'm sure you too hear this first stanza of the Inferno sometimes in darker hours. I've been hearing it lately, enough even to recall and reclaim that some sun rays rise and point the straight within a page, and terror subsides, but I can't finish the sentence there because only a few stanzas on the jaguar comes and has spots and paces and won't let him pass. Still, at least you're moving again, if only side to side.
Friends, bleaders, Fonz, I am attempting an arise. But enough about me, how you doin'? I may be half vulcan half falcon (yes, I mean balloon boy), but I have feelings too. And when I go outside, yes, yesterday I went outside and I did it again today and intend a threepeat this evening to teach. So yeah when I go outside people look kind of miserable around the eyes. Some of them are sufficiently distracted as to not actually be miserable, and of course, some of them are neutral, and yes, I'm getting to it, some of the sweet bastards are actually happy and healthy. But it's kind of nice to be seeing these eyes that way, because either I'm projecting grief on minds that are actually at play in the field of their teams and dinner choices or I'm seeing what is really there but also not there, and either way it's weird and bad and good to be feeling especially empathic. So I guess Betazoid.
I've been down and out a few weeks, if you like your writers fluish, let's say that then, but the girl was more honestly bluishs. This though is a note to claim revival, the author awakens to find she is convalescing in a wonderful life. I have at least a sense of sun rays, and an intimation that I the jaguar can be outlasted.
I have a regular Weds blog at the Best American Poetry site and after having not posted quite regularly these past bunch of weeks, I managed happily to post today, so have a look if you feel like it.
Fonzie, I'm just not the type to jump the shark, but I was feeling awfully like a Triumph hovering over Jaws. I know it couldn't have been easy for you either, so much pressure, such ridiculous expectations, living in someone else's family, banging on things to make them work. I just want you to know that I admire your courage and sympathize completely with the anguish of it. I am holding you in cupped hands in my minds eye, and Fay Wray is holding me, and the ape's got her. Lois Lane has the ape, and Superman has Lois Lane. "You've got me? Who's got you?!"
Well, for what it's worth, I've got you and I think probably the Green Lantern has me. Because the Green Lantern lives by poetry and does the best he can. That's Fay above, of course. I considered the other easily available shots of her, but if you look you'll see that the idea of them paired with a blog post about an ice patch of depression makes them utterly terrifying.
So right Fonz, feel the love and take it one heartbeat at a time, but, you know, take it.
Monday, November 2, 2009