June 2011
2 posts
a crystal ribbon
rosy, umbilical — also gilded, sad
echoing to the grey, wild, drowning
beyond
the halls
that make the animal sleep and
the beauty unbearable
the sounds
that awakened loss,
shame,
history.
November 2010
3 posts
May 2010
3 posts
April 2010
12 posts
A Postcard from the Volcano
by Wallace Stevens
.
Children picking up our bones Will never know that these were once As quick as foxes on the hill; And that in autumn, when the grapes Made sharp air sharper by their smell These had a being, breathing frost; And least will guess that with our bones We left much more, left what still is The look of things, left what we felt At what we saw. The spring clouds blow Above the...
Watch
March 2010
6 posts
Found Eulogy
10/16/00
Dear Lauren,
Here’s the check and as for when we get the CD you can do whatever is easiest for you. I would think it is to take it home whenever you go and solve delivery problems then. The whole thing, you in the chorus and the trip to England is very exciting and I wonder how you get any studying done. I am so overwhelmed by what the young people today are expected to do and...
Punch in the presence of the passenjare!
Watch
February 2010
2 posts
January 2010
7 posts
2010
clarity. consistency. strength.
December 2009
14 posts
3 tags
I lost my best glove. Do you think the lost glove is happy?
I gave good gifts to my colleagues this year.
Tibetan prayer wheel
Cameo pin
Atomizer
Tole cabinet
Cork ornament
Bob Cratchit and Tiny Tim figurine
I was participating in a contest of who can stay on the monkey bars the longest. One could hang straight-up monkey style, flip upside down and wrap one’s knees into the bars, or lie along on top. It went on for hours. I finished my book. I came in third place in round one; when we went again, I finished second (those some said I really won).
I also had breast implants, and I was pretty sure...
Fording a river above a gentle fall, then picking up my feet and floating over. Fresh water, fast current. Lovely except I am terrified of my hands or feet touching what seem to be drowned bodies below the surface. My fingers pass through a woman’s long hair growing up from the river bottom.
November 2009
6 posts
