Spring is Here!



Good morning world! It is absolutely beautiful here, a breezy and sunshiny morning. I am in Brooklyn and Jr. and I are going to the Brooklyn Museum later to see a feminist art exhibition. Judy Chicago's Dinner Party is there and I can't WAIT to see that. As the Brooklyn Botanical Garden is right next to the museum, we may go there as well. Last night Jr., Troy and I watched an awful movie by Terry Gilliam called Tideland. Well we turned it off about three quarters of the way through as it became weirdly sexual with the little girl main character. What was Terry Gilliam thinking? I HATED Brazil so should have known this one wouldn't be to my liking...little did I know.

My sister is urging me to put in here how I refuse to kiss her dog on the snout. There it is. I refuse. I want JR. to make more coffee, this time coffee that is stronger than dishwater. She is refusing too. This is a morning of sunshine and refusals.

I have an announcement...Kate Rebecca Precht has nabbed the lead in her class's Mother's Day play. She is the baby bird in "Are You My Mother?" by Dr. Seuss. I am so proud of my baby bird. We read that book together over and over when she was little. Brave, talented gorgeous Katie girl!!

Well, I am off to have blueberry pie for breakfast, Entemanmann's. Hurray!



A True Account of Talking to the Sun at Fire Island

by Frank O'Hara


The Sun woke me this morning loud
and clear, saying "Hey! I've been
trying to wake you up for fifteen
minutes. Don't be so rude, you are
only the second poet I've ever chosen
to speak to personally
so why
aren't you more attentive? If I could
burn you through the window I would
to wake you up. I can't hang around
here all day."
"Sorry, Sun, I stayed
up late last night talking to Hal."

"When I woke up Mayakovsky he was
a lot more prompt" the Sun said
petulantly. "Most people are up
already waiting to see if I'm going
to put in an appearance."
I tried
to apologize "I missed you yesterday."
"That's better" he said. "I didn't
know you'd come out." "You may be wondering why I've come so close?"
"Yes" I said beginning to feel hot
and wondering if maybe he wasn't burning me
anyway.
"Frankly I wanted to tell you
I like your poetry. I see a lot
on my rounds and you're okay. You may
not be the greatest thing on earth, but
you're different. Now, I've heard some
say you're crazy, they being excessively
calm themselves to my mind, and other
crazy poets think that you're a boring
reactionary. Not me.
Just keep on
like I do and pay no attention. You'll
find that some people always will
complain about the atmosphere,
either too hot
or too cold too bright or too dark, days
too short or too long.
If you don't appear
at all one day they think you're lazy
or dead. Just keep right on, I like it.

And don't worry about your lineage
poetic or natural. The Sun shines on
the jungle, you know, on the tundra
the sea, the ghetto. Wherever you were
I knew it and saw you moving. I was waiting
for you to get to work.

And now that you
are making your own days, so to speak,
even if no one reads you but me
you won't be depressed. Not
everyone can look up, even at me. It
hurts their eyes."
"Oh Sun, I'm so grateful to you!"

"Thanks and remember I'm watching. It's
easier for me to speak to you out
here. I don't have to slide down
between buildings to get your ear.
I know you love Manhattan, but
you ought to look up more often.
And
always embrace things, people earth
sky stars, as I do, freely and with
the appropriate sense of space. That
is your inclination, known in the heavens
and you should follow it to hell, if
necessary, which I doubt.
Maybe we'll
speak again in Africa, of which I too
am specially fond. Go back to sleep now
Frank, and I may leave a tiny poem
in that brain of yours as my farewell."

"Sun, don't go!" I was awake
at last. "No, go I must, they're calling
me."
"Who are they?"
Rising he said "Some
day you'll know. They're calling to you
too." Darkly he rose, and then I slept.