Jr., We Hardly Knew Ye


Apparently Jr. is dying of consumption. She is sleeping on her roof and coughing blood delicately into a lace-edged handkerchief. Her dying wish is a new post, so here it is.

Life here has been god awful and I waved the white flag today and started back up on the meds. Don't think kids would have survived my insane rages much longer. They come out of nowhere like a tornado, touch down, leave havoc, and then spin off again. Without meds I am my mother

The boy ran away from home at the beginning of the week, and instigated a pile on after a football game over the weekend that freaked out the younger kid on the bottom of the pile...angry words between parents, gah. Oh and I found out BFI was sleeping with hookers when we were married, and doing drugs. And has herpes.

Finally filed my taxes. Hurray for online filing, and enough refund money for a new computer. My mother bought me the one I'm on and that was in 1999. Looked for new clothes for the girl. Her requirements: no pink, no purple, no cartoons or sayings, no hearts, polka dots, or any kind of pattern besides stripes, no ruffles, so ties, no bows, and why can't I buy her shirts from the boy's dept? Why oh why does my blue eyed baby bunny want to dress like a boy?

Jogi is back from NZ. I am going out to Portland again this summer. Very happy about that, we're going to spend a few days on the beach this time.

Okay, Jr. I'm done posting and now I am going to put on my pajamas and read Jung because the kids are playing Wii and won't give me the TV.

Because I Could Not Stop for Death

He kindly stopped for me—
The Carriage held but just Ourselves—
And Immortality.

We slowly drove—He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility—

We passed the School, where Children strove
At Recess—in the Ring—
We passed the fields of Gazing Grain—
We passed the Setting Sun—

Or rather—He passed Us—
The Dews drew quivering and chill—
For only Gossamer, my Gown—
My Tippet—only Tulle—

We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground—
The Roof was scarcely visible—
The Cornice—in the Ground—

Since then—'tis Centuries—and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses' Heads
Were toward Eternity—

Emily Dickinson

Easter


Easter afternoon, ham in the oven with a coca cola glaze and kids home from BFI's in about 30 minutes. Poor Jr. has taken ill so its up to me and the Willnaur's to cook. Hoo boy, will this be interesting. Willie's doing the vegetables and a pasta dish for the boy. I got the ham and made the glaze and bought some lovely loaves of semolina bread and a beautiful braided challah too. Desserts also had to be purchased as poor Weezer will not be bringing any of her homemade delights. Cherry pie and a cake thats says HAPPY EASTER! is what we will be finishing dinner off with this year, compliments of the Stop and Shop bakery. Can't wait for the kids to see their Easter goodies and the house smells like cinnamon and cloves.

A light exists in spring
Not present on the year
At any other period.
When March is scarcely here

A color stands abroad
On solitary hills
That silence cannot overtake,
But human nature feels.

It waits upon the lawn;
It shows the furthest tree
Upon the furthest slope we know;
It almost speaks to me.

Then, as horizons step,
Or noons report away,
Without the formula of sound,
It passes, and we stay:

A quality of loss
Affecting our content,
As trade had suddenly encroached
Upon a sacrament.

Emily Dickinson

Happy Birthday Velmar!


Today is my good good friend Kathy Willnauer's (nee Valma)birthday. We figured out that we have known each other for 34 years....my god, 34 years. We met in Bernie Fenster's 9th grade science class. She was writing the words to a Spark's song on the desk and substituting the name "Bernie" for "Albert." We soon found out that we were both Elton John freaks. We became best friends very quickly. Early cherished memory: working as partners on a "simple machines" project in Bernie's class. We made an automatic book opener which involved tying a thread loop around a book page tying the other end to an egg beater, and then cranking egg beater. Much barely supressed laughter during presentation which helped earn us a D minus. I have spent every Christmans Eve with Velmar since 1974, and most other holidays as well. She's smart, she funny, she's quirky, she's steady, she's decent, she's fair, and she's family. I would send her a hyber hug but she'd cringe. No mushy stuff for her...

Talent is an Asset

Albert is smart, he's a genius
Watch Albert putter, an obvious genius
Someday he will reassess the world
And he'll still have time for lots of girls

When he grows up he'll remember us
When he grows up we are sure that he'll remember us

We made sure that Albert wore his mac
We kept all the strangers off his back

(Go away)
Everything's relative
(Go away Albert's mother say to me)
We are his relatives and he don't need any non- relatives

Talent is an asset
You've got to understand that
Talent is an asset
And little Albert has it
Talent is an asset
And Albert surely has it

One day he'll sever his apron strings
All of the while he'll be scribbling things, genius things
Look at Albert, isn't he a sight
Growing, growing at the speed of light

(Go away)
Everything's relative
(Go away Albert's mother say to me)
We are his relatives and he don't need any non- relatives

Talent is an asset
And little Albert has it

Talent is relative
That's hypothetical
We are his relatives
That's parenthetical
Spare your superlatives
There's the receptacle
There's the receptacle

Leave Albert's study room
Leave Albert's happy room
Leave Albert's neighbourhood
Leave Albert's city, too
Leave Albert's country seat
Leave Albert's coun-rer-y
Leave Albert's continent
Leave Albert's hemisphere
Leave Albert's planet, too
Leave Albert's universe

No one must see him now
Only the medical
No one must downgrade him
Don't be too cynical
Don't be too critical
Cancel the magazines
They're much to political
Don't buy him any jeans
They're much to casual
Talent is relative
We are his relatives
That's parenthetical

Sparks

Friends

I hope the day will be a lighter highway
For friends are found on every road
Can you ever think of any better way
For the lost and weary travellers to go

Making friends for the world to see
Let the people know you got what you need
With a friend at hand you will see the light
If your friends are there then everything's all right

It seems to me a crime that we should age
These fragile times should never slip us by
A time you never can or shall erase
As friends together watch their childhood fly

Bernie Taupin

Rays Run Amok


Rays are out out to eradicate the human race! First, Steve Irwin is speared, then one month later some poor old man is skewered and spends months in a comma. Now, a mom is standing in a boat in the Florida Keys and a giant ray comes leaping out of the water and knocks her to her death on the deck. I know I will be staying away from Florida AND aquariums. We are all just sitting ducks in an aquarium. Imagine the carnage near the petting tanks. I think Satan is controlling the rays. Or maybe its eco-terrorism.

The Kraken

Below the thunders of the upper deep,
Far far beneath in the abysmal sea,
His ancient, dreamless, uninvaded sleep
The Kraken sleepeth: faintest sunlights flee
About his shadowy sides: above him swell
Huge sponges of millennial growth and height;
And far away into the sickly light,
From many a wondrous grot and secret cell
Unnumbered and enormous polypi
Winnow with giant fins the slumbering green.
There hath he lain for ages and will lie
Battering upon huge seaworms in his sleep,
Until the latter fire shall heat the deep;
Then once by men and angels to be seen,
In roaring he shall rise and on the surface die.

Lord Alfred Tennyson

Happy St. Patrick's Day


Beannacht (Blessing)

On the day when
the weight deadens
on your shoulders
and you stumble,
may the clay dance
to balance you.

And when your eyes
freeze behind
the grey window
and the ghost of loss
gets in to you,
may a flock of colours,
indigo, red, green,
and azure blue
come to awaken in you
a meadow of delight.

When the canvas frays
in the currach of thought
and a stain of ocean
blackens beneath you,
may there come across the waters
a path of yellow moonlight
to bring you safely home.

May the nourishment of the earth be yours,
may the clarity of light be yours,
may the fluency of the ocean be yours,
may the protection of the ancestors be yours.
And so may a slow
wind work these words
of love around you,
an invisible cloak
to mind your life.

John O’Donohue

Happy Birthday Violet


Saturday morning, 5:30, and I am craving a charbroiled hamburger. The rain is heavy outside and kids of course are sleeping, exhausted after night of relentless playing of Super Smash Brothers Brawl. God help me it was like being in Chuckie Cheese but with no escape. I estimate another week at least until the novelty of this new game wears off.

Happy news! BFI has agreed to start taking kids overnight again, starting next weekend. Okay, he sounded drunk, but I'm holding him to it. The long night of the Chigger is over. Here is my plan for next weekend: Metropolitan Museum of Art on Saturday. I think I may cry when I get there. There is nowhere on earth I love better than the Met. Stroll through Central Park when...oh crap, just realized next weekend is Easter...plans deflating like air escaping a balloon. I want the kids for Easter weekend, baskets in the morning, egg hunts, etc. BFI can't have them. And I guess the Met's not going anywhere...

Ave Maria

Mothers of America
let your kids go to the movies!
get them out of the house so they won't know what you're up to
it's true that fresh air is good for the body
but what about the soul
that grows in darkness, embossed by silvery images
and when you grow old as grow old you must
they won't hate you
they won't criticize you they won't know

Frank O'Hara

Report from the Inside



Shock and woe at work as passel of new writers begin to realize the horror that is Blunder and Blunder. All were called into a meeting where apparently they were berated and humiliated for their laziness and stupidity. Seems they just didn't deliver acceptable file reviews. And after an entire hour long training session! This came while security cameras were being installed all over the office. Can't have employees stealing paper clips or talking to one another I guess. Newbies looking shell-shocked and miserable now. One poor girl came over to ask me about a tower of file review bins she was supposed to do with tears in her eyes. Kinda like the queen in Rumplestilskin. I predict much jumping of ship as many of these people are kids living with their parents and have a safe harbor from which to find a new job. In more Blunder and Blunder news, news which has the entire office laughing behind their hands, the post office has become aware that the firm has tens of hundreds of post office bins in their possession which are being used to store files and medical records. Each bin has a warning that a 1000 dollar fine and a prison term are possible for anybody who steals the bin. Somebody called up the post office and turned Blunder and Blunder in. Imagine that! We all eagerly await the arrival of a post office swat team to confiscate the bins and take out the brothers Blunder in handcuffs.

Instant Karma

Instant karmas gonna get you
Gonna knock you right on the head
You better get yourself together
Pretty soon youre gonna be dead
What in the world you thinking of
Laughing in the face of love
What on earth you tryin to do
Its up to you, yeah you

Instant karmas gonna get you
Gonna look you right in the face
Better get yourself together darlin
Join the human race
How in the world you gonna see
Laughin at fools like me
Who in the hell dyou think you are
A super star
Well, right you are

Well we all shine on
Like the moon and the stars and the sun
Well we all shine on
Evryone come on

Instant karmas gonna get you
Gonna knock you off your feet
Better recognize your brothers
Evryone you meet
Why in the world are we here
Surely not to live in pain and fear
Why on earth are you there
When youre evrywhere
Come and get your share

Well we all shine on
Like the moon and the stars and the sun
Yeah we all shine on
Come on and on and on on on
Yeah yeah, alright, uh huh, ah

Well we all shine on
Like the moon and the stars and the sun
Yeah we all shine on
On and on and on on and on

Well we all shine on
Like the moon and the stars and the sun
Well we all shine on
Like the moon and the stars and the sun
Well we all shine on
Like the moon and the stars and the sun
Yeah we all shine on
Like the moon and the stars and the sun

John Lennon

Cake!




Cake for FP, and a lamby cake even old ladies can make. Weezy, find a lamb pan and get baking!

Cake

i wanted one life
you wanted another
we couldn't have our cake
so we ate each other.

Roger McGough

Bloggin', Free Association Like



Been over to The Fourth Person's blog and now cannot get Graceland out of my head, as in Graceland, Graceland, Memphis Tennessee. How I love that album....

The Mississippi delta was shining
Like a national guitar
I am following the river
Down the highway
Through the cradle of the civil war
I'm going to Graceland
Graceland
In Memphis Tennessee
I'm going to Graceland
Poorboys and pilgrims with families
And we are going to Graceland
My traveling companion is nine years old
He is the child of my first marriage
But Ive reason to believe
We both will be received
In Graceland

She comes back to tell me she's gone
As if I didn't know that
As if I didn't know my own bed
As if Id never noticed
The way she brushed her hair from her forehead
And she said losing love
Is like a window in your heart
Everybody sees you re blown apart
Everybody sees the wind blow

I'm going to Graceland
Memphis Tennessee
I'm going to Graceland
Poorboys and pilgrims with families
And we are going to Graceland

And my traveling companions
Are ghosts and empty sockets
I'm looking at ghosts and empties
But Ive reason to believe
We all will be received
In Graceland

There is a girl in new york city
Who calls herself the human trampoline
And sometimes when I'm falling, flying
Or tumbling in turmoil I say
Oh, so this is what she means
She means were bouncing into Graceland
And I see losing love
Is like a window in your heart
Everybody sees you re blown apart
Everybody sees the wind blow

In Graceland, in Graceland
I'm going to Graceland
For reasons I cannot explain
Theres some part of me wants to see
Graceland
And I may be obliged to defend
Every love, every ending
Or maybe theres no obligations now
Maybe Ive a reason to believe
We all will be received
In Graceland

Isn't that fantastic?! It is close to three a.m and I am awake, perhaps because it is the witching hour and I am a witch...a good witch although I would never wear a hat that looked like a plastic trash receptacle like Glynda (sp?) of Oz. Okay, I just wish I was a witch, making potions, casting spells, flying over the trees, dancing in the moonlight....ooops I feel another song coming on:

Dancing In The Moonlight
( King Harvest )

We get it on most every night
When that old moon gets so big and bright
It's a supernatural delight
Everybody was dancin' in the moonlight

Everybody here is out of sight
They don't bark, and they don't bite
They keep things loose, they keep things light
Everybody was dancin' in the moonlight

Dancin' in the moonlight
Everybody's feelin' warm and right
It's such a fine and natural sight
Everybody's dancin' in the moonlight

We like our fun and we never fight
You can't dance and stay uptight
It's a supernatural delight
Everybody was dancin' in the moonlight

Dancin' in the moonlight
Everybody's feelin' warm and right
It's such a fine and natural sight
Everybody's dancin' in the moonlight

[break]

Everybody here is out of sight
They don't bark, and they don't bite
They keep things loose, they keep things light
Everybody was dancin' in the moonlight

Dancin' in the moonlight
Everybody's feelin' warm and right
It's such a fine and natural sight
Everybody's dancin' in the moonlight

Dancin' in the moonlight
Everybody's feelin' warm and right
It's such a fine and natural sight
Everybody's dancin' in the moonlight

Dancin' in the moonlight
Everybody's feelin' warm and right
It's such a fine and natural sight
Everybody's dancin' in the moonlight

Doesn't that song make you happy? Going to get ginger ale (left over from the stomach virus siege...read this poem with ginger ale in it while I'm gone)

Running Away Together

It will be an island on strings
well out to sea and austere
bobbing as if at anchor
green with enormous fir trees
formal as telephone poles.

We will arrive there slowly
hand over hand without oars.
Last out, you will snip the fragile
umbilicus white as a beansprout
that sewed us into our diaries.

We will be two bleached hermits
at home in our patches and tears.
We will butter the sun with our wisdom.
Our days will be grapes on a trellis
perfectly oval and furred.

At night we will set our poems
adrift in ginger ale bottles
each with a clamshell rudder
each with a piggyback spider
waving them off by dogstar

and nothing will come from the mainland
to tell us who cares, who cares
and nothing will come of our lovelock
except as our two hearts go soft
and black as avocado pears.

Maxine W. Kumin

Refreshing! What is a dogstar by the way? I guess I could look it up...probably some constellation reference. Guess I will go lay down before I fall out of my computer chair...Tonight the must not eat temptation in the kitchen is Pepperidge Farm Nantucket cookies...the big ones...if only I could think of a spell that would make them non-caloric.............................

Song (Did you see me walking by the Buick Repairs?)

Did you see me walking by the Buick Repairs?
I was thinking of you
having a Coke in the heat it was your face
I saw on the movie magazine, no it was Fabian's
I was thinking of you
and down at the railroad tracks where the station
has mysteriously disappeared
I was thinking of you
as the bus pulled away in the twilight
I was thinking of you
and right now

Frank O'Hara

Laid Up



Home sick today with virus that kids just got over. Sleeping, reading, sucking on ice pops, not a bad way to spend the day (aside from the annoying aspects of having a stomache bug). Been reading Jane Austen and the Gnostic Bible. Picked up bible because I wanted to read about women who are not in the bible proper for poetry project. Very interesting story about a woman name Thecla who got tied to the stake and thrown before lions and bears for not getting married, was protected by a lioness, baptized herself and went on to preach the word of god. Small part of me hoping I'll find god someplace in the book as well. Head aches some, kids are home from school and outside playing for an hour before homework. Need more ice pops and to lay down...........


HEAVEN is what I cannot reach!
The apple on the tree,
Provided it do hopeless hang,
That “heaven” is, to me.

The color on the cruising cloud, 5
The interdicted ground
Behind the hill, the house behind,—
There Paradise is found!

Emily Dickinson

The Sound of Rain



Morning has broken...la la la...Cat Stevens. Boy is back from his school trip upstate and he and the girl child are still fast asleep. It is raining...I know this because I can hear it on the air conditioner. Today is a Chuckie Cheese birthday party day (will the hell that is Chuckie Cheese ever end for me?!!!) and I have to go cash my paycheck so I can give poor Am upstairs the March rent. Kenny lost his job, got another one for the interim, but there are no med benefits and four little girls upstairs. Ack, what a world if we don't weaken, to quote my dearly departed mamma. Oh no, stirrings from the kiddie area, Boy is up and has put on the T.V. and Home Improvement...it burns it burns! Noooooooooooooooo. Sigh. Guess I'll go start my day. Hugs all around.

Spring Snow

Rain of remembering;
late snow turning to rain.
Then in the cold house,
alone in bed,
the soft stutter on the roof,
random phrases; your voice,
only your voice. How can
it be that voice that touched
me everywhere?
And what you said,
if only I could hear it again
in its intensity.
Essence distilled
in the moment of waking,
the delicate mold and odors
of the breaking apart of winter,
in the soft snow that comes
between the past and the chill
distillation, the whisper of air
split between the perfume
of melting crystals; the clasp
and letting go.

Ruth Stone