White Towels
I have been studying the differencebetween solitude and loneliness,telling the story of my lifeto the clean white towels taken warm from the dryier.I carry them through the houseas though they were my childrenasleep in my arms.
~ Richard Jones
hey friends – not sure what is going on with my posts and why the formatting is all mixed up but I am working on correcting it and thank you for your patience.
First Lesson
Lie back, daughter, let your headbe tipped back in the cup of my hand.Gently, and I will hold you. Spread
your arms wide, lie out on the streamand look high at the gulls. A dead-man’s-float is face down. You will diveand swim soon enough where this tidewater
ebbs to the sea. Daughter, believe
me, when you tire on the long thrashto your island, lie up, and survive.As you float now, where I held youand let go, remember when fear
cramps your heart what I told you:lie gently and wide to the light-yearstars, lie back, and the sea will hold you.
~ Philip Booth
Habit
Last night when my work was done,
And my estranged hands
Were becoming mutually interested
In such forgotten things as pulses,
I looked out of a window
Into a glittering night sky.
And instantly
I began to feather-stitch a ring around the moon
~ Hazel Hall
Writesingtelldraw
I’ve told you a hundred tall stories,I’ve sung you a thousand sweet songs,I’ve wrote you a million ridiculous rhymes(Though sometimes the grammar was wrong),I’ve drawn you a zillion pictures,So being as fair as can be,After all that I’ve writtensungtolddrawn for you,Won’t you writesingtelldraw one for me?
~ Shel Silverstein
(not sure what is going on – I’ll need to consult my technical advisors and likely make a small sacrifice to their gods but I’ll get this formatting issue fixed as quickly as I’m able.)
Good April Morning to you! Well back my April Fools!
I know every year I tell you how it has snuck up on me and how unprepared I am … Well, I’m not exaggerating when I say this year, April hid in the bushes with a stick and walloped me good! It quite very nearly didn’t happen. My website and domain name had expired but March 30th found me salvaging and reclaiming this little piece of madness and here we are once again. Please let me know if you know someone who needs to share in this little bit of insanity we call our own.
little prayer
let ruin end here
let him find honey
where there was once a slaughter
let him enter the lion’s cage
& find a field of lilacs
let this be the healing
& if not let it be
~Danez Smith
The New Regime
Yes, I agree. We’ll pull ourselves together.
We eat too much. We’re always getting pissed.
It’s not a bad idea to find out whether
We like each other sober. Let’s resist.
I’ve got the Perrier and the carrot-grater,
I’ll look on a Scotch or a pudding as a crime.
We all have to be sensible sooner or later
But don’t let’s be sensible all the time.
No more thinking about a second bottle
And saying ‘What the hell?’ and giving in.
Tomorrow I’ll be jogging at full throttle
To make myself successful, rich and thin.
A healthy life’s a great rejuvenator
But, God, it’s going to be an uphill climb.
We all have to be sensible sooner or later
But don’t let’s be sensible all the time.
The conversation won’t be have as trivial —
You’ll hold forth on the issues of the day —
And, when our evenings aren’t quite so convivial,
You’ll start remembering the things I say.
Oh, see if you can catch the eye of the waiter
And order me a double vodka and lime.
We all have to be sensible sooner or later
But I refuse to be sensible all the time.
~ Wendy Cope
On the Back Porch
The cat calls for her dinner.
On the porch I bend and pour
brown soy stars into her bowl,
stroke her dark fur.
It’s not quite night.
Pinpricks of light in the eastern sky.
Above my neighbor’s roof, a transparent
moon, a pink rag of cloud.
Inside my house are those who love me.
My daughter dusts biscuit dough.
And there’s a man who will lift my hair
in his hands, brush it
until it throws sparks.
Everything is just as I’ve left it.
Dinner simmers on the stove.
Glass bowls wait to be filled
with gold broth. Sprigs of parsley
on the cutting board.
I want to smell this rich soup, the air
around me going dark, as stars press
their simple shapes into the sky.
I want to stay on the back porch
while the world tilts
toward sleep, until what I love
misses me, and calls me in.
~ Dorianne Laux
