Monday, December 30, 2013
Saturday, December 28, 2013
Friday, December 27, 2013
A Letter
A Letter
I have tried a dozen ways
to say those things
and have failed; how the moon
with its bruises
climbs branch over branch
through the empty tree;
how the cool November dusk,
like a wind, has blown
these old grey houses up
against the darkness;
and what these things
have come to mean to me
without you. I raked the yard
this morning, and it rained
this afternoon. Tonight,
along the shiny street,
the bags of leaves--
wet-shouldered
but warm in their skins--
are huddled together, close
so close to life.
*
Poem by Ted Kooser
I have tried a dozen ways
to say those things
and have failed; how the moon
with its bruises
climbs branch over branch
through the empty tree;
how the cool November dusk,
like a wind, has blown
these old grey houses up
against the darkness;
and what these things
have come to mean to me
without you. I raked the yard
this morning, and it rained
this afternoon. Tonight,
along the shiny street,
the bags of leaves--
wet-shouldered
but warm in their skins--
are huddled together, close
so close to life.
*
Poem by Ted Kooser
Monday, December 23, 2013
Friday, December 20, 2013
Coal For Your Stocking
Rat Jelly
See the rat in the jelly
steaming dirty hair
frozen, bring it out on a glass tray
split the pie four ways and eat
I took great care cooking this treat for you
and tho it looks good
and tho it smells of Westinghouse still
and tastes of exotic fish or
maybe the expensive arse of a cow
I want you to know it's a rat
steaming dirty hair and still alive
(caught him last Sunday
thinking of the fridge, thinking of you.)
*
Photo by Junker Jane
Poem by Michael Ondaatje
Labels:
christmas,
devil,
junker jane,
michael ondaatje,
Poetry (not mine),
ugly
Thursday, December 19, 2013
Wednesday, December 18, 2013
Monday, December 16, 2013
Tiny Poem
Somewhere a pumpkin fell
breaking itself
into the shape of a face.
*
Photo by do not bend
Poem by me
Saturday, December 14, 2013
It's Not Christmas Without You
I have a mixed cd I put together some years ago titled A Strange Little Christmas. None of the songs on it are Christmas songs (save one), but they have become very much a part of the holiday tradition in our house. It just isn't Christmas til this cd starts playing.
This is one of the songs (click picture).
Photographer unknown
Song by Stina Nordenstam
*
Oh, yea...and here's another one.
Labels:
christmas,
home sweet home,
music,
radiohead,
stina nordenstam,
YouTube
Friday, December 13, 2013
Prose Poem
Vengeance
The sheer sensuousness of returning an offense. The release. Then no place to go but back into ourselves where suddenly we're cool and numb. That node of anger, that galvanizer, gone. No excuse left to delay living our lives. Maybe only love is as personal. The singularity, the intense focus. Once, though, in existentialism's first grasp, I was content to believe that in time the wicked would hang themselves. Nothing we need do to them. I'd forgotten how hurt won't let philosophy be king, that hurt wears its own crown, wants to rid itself of itself. But so much vengeance is a quiet affair. Just vengeance and me, the cause elsewhere, perhaps in another city, enjoying himself, untroubled by my trouble with him. I've taken him to sleep with me where he's met his proper death. No mercy in that dark realm. And no satisfaction when I woke.
*
Art by Alfred Kubin
Poem by Stephen Dunn
The sheer sensuousness of returning an offense. The release. Then no place to go but back into ourselves where suddenly we're cool and numb. That node of anger, that galvanizer, gone. No excuse left to delay living our lives. Maybe only love is as personal. The singularity, the intense focus. Once, though, in existentialism's first grasp, I was content to believe that in time the wicked would hang themselves. Nothing we need do to them. I'd forgotten how hurt won't let philosophy be king, that hurt wears its own crown, wants to rid itself of itself. But so much vengeance is a quiet affair. Just vengeance and me, the cause elsewhere, perhaps in another city, enjoying himself, untroubled by my trouble with him. I've taken him to sleep with me where he's met his proper death. No mercy in that dark realm. And no satisfaction when I woke.
*
Art by Alfred Kubin
Poem by Stephen Dunn
Labels:
alfred kubin,
Poetry (not mine),
prose poem,
stephen dunn
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
Dark Ambient Christmas
I find this song comforting yet strangely disturbing.
Photo by Splotchy
Song by Ksine (click photo)
*
Monday, December 9, 2013
Saturday, December 7, 2013
Thursday, December 5, 2013
What You Can Lose And Will Lose
“Everything that falls upon the eye is apparition, a sheet dropped over the world's true workings. The nerves and the brain are tricked, and one is left with dreams that these specters loose their hands from ours and walk away, the curve of the back and the swing of the coat so familiar as to imply that they should be permanent fixtures of the world, when in fact nothing is more perishable.”
-Marilynne Robinson, Housekeeping
(One of my favorite novels)
Photographer Raphael Fagundes
*
Tuesday, December 3, 2013
Monday, December 2, 2013
Sunday, December 1, 2013
We Have Always Lived In This Castle
We moved together very slowly toward the house, trying to understand its ugliness and ruin and shame.
Shirley Jackson
*
Photographer shellygrrl
October Is All I Want
The original Ballantine cover art, and the illustrations inside:
Homecoming
Skeleton
The Cistern
The Dwarf
The Man Upstairs
The Scythe
The Wind
*
Labels:
art,
book,
halloween,
horror,
october,
ray bradbury,
the october country
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