(September 2005) I won't be writing much till my laptop returns from its motherboard-replacement vacation to California, but I do have a question before I disappear: Has anyone else noted the irony of the fact that King Bush the Former made his thousand points of light speech (in which he promised to help the poor) in the Superdome?
Anyway. It’s car-free day and a whole lot of people have lost their things, so here's an apt poem from Writer’s Almanac:
by Liel Muller
from Alive Together: New and Selected Poems
What happened is, we grew lonely
living among the things,
so we gave the clock a face,
the chair a back,
the table four stout legs
which will never suffer fatigue.
We fitted our shoes with tongues
as smooth as our own
and hung tongues inside bells
so we could listen
to their emotional language,
and because we loved graceful profiles
the pitcher received a lip,
the bottle a long, slender neck.
Even what was beyond us
was recast in our image:
we gave the country a heart,
the storm an eye,
the cave a mouth
so we could pass into safely.
Meanwhile, I came across this signature on Bowlie Whisper It: Feminism:
I feel certain that somewhere very near here—the first house down the road, maybe—there's a good poet dying, but also somewhere very near here somebody's having a hilarious pint of pus taken from her lovely young body, and I can't be running back and forth forever between grief and high delight.