Saturday, September 29, 2007


From the Archives

(May 2005) From the Witer's Almanac:

by David Moreau
from Sex, Death and Baseball (Moon Pie Press)

I will not die tonight
I will lie in bed with
my wife beside me,
curled on the right
like an animal burrowing.
I will fit myself against her
and we will keep each other warm.

I will not die tonight.
My son who is seven
will not slide beneath the ice
like the boy on the news.
The divers will not have to look
for him in the cold water.
He will call, "Daddy, can I get up now?"
in the morning.

I will not die tonight.
I will balance the checkbook,
wash up the dishes
and sit in front of the TV
drinking one beer.

For the moment I hold a winning ticket.
It's my turn to buy cold cuts
at the grocery store.
I fill my basket carefully.

For like the rain that comes now
to the roof and slides down the gutter
I am headed to the earth.
And like the others, all the lost
and all the lovers, I will follow
an old path not marked on any map.

by Fleur Adcock, from Poems: 1960-2000 (Bloodaxe Books)

There are worse things than having behaved foolishly in public.
There are worse things than these miniature betrayals,
committed or endured or suspected; there are worse things
than not being able to sleep for thinking about them.
It is 5 a.m. All the worse things come stalking in
and stand icily about the bed looking worse and worse and worse.

LISTENING TO: Julian Bream playing Mozart’s Four Horn Concerto on baroque guitar

BEST-OF SPAM SUBJECT LINES: Sexually outperform anyone in the world! • Broad doldrums • Satisfy every women around

(Broad doldrums. Hmmmm.......)

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