Where were you on 10/10/10? This seems like an important date, and I almost missed it. I mean, I was here, but where was I? In computer update limbo. Kicking with my software. Holed up in front of this blinking cursor. What kind of a memory is that?
A big date
CommentI NEED A JOBThe Great RecessionorThe Great Depression?To just one does not all credit go.ChangedGreat Recession has affected way in which we live.Tryfinding wordsthat describe goals,plans.We want jobs now.
I’m not usually into these things, but this one kind of jumped off the pages of the Lake County Herald.
The Garden’s Fall
So this is what
it comes to
The promise of spring now
all cracking up over lost suppleness.
Past the point of usefulness.
After all those phases of the moon,
the sun and rain,
the hosings and the horse manure.
Mushrooms in the garden?
Mushrooms in the grass?
Mushrooms in the trees?
Is this too much to ask?
And those pictures are just from one half-mile walk around the block. Cleveland! Gotta love it.
Fierce is a 3 lb 8 oz dogwhoshivering with righteous fury,tethered by a thread,ears at attention,chin extended into a relentless chain of scalp-tightening yelps,stands up to the back side of an overstuffed cable man,head under the tent of his truck,before returning home torelease one more harbored huff of indignationas she settles in by the
Four years in the writing, more in the research. So much time and yes, fun, in the making. Finally!
Book smart = street dumb
This thinking is ubiquitous in too many of our upper schools. Smart is stupid, dumb is good. To mark the depth of this river, all you need to do is walk in the door. Ivory towers. Sissies. Nerds. Society just doesn’t give that much respect
When doing a poetry reading, it is always best NOT to take yourself too seriously. Prepare, yes. Have your papers in order, yes. Rehearse a little. Know your audience. But all of us who read our words aloud have grown to appreciate nobel prize winner Wislawa Szymborska’s sentiment:
I read Animal Farm as a kid, maybe third grade or so. It was on the bookshelf by my bed. I remember slipping the slim, green volume in and out surreptitiously to read with a flashlight in bed. Mom didn’t know I was reading this book without pictures in which pigs talked,
”Finish every day and be done with it. You have done what you could; some blunders and absurdities crept in. Forget about them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day; you shall begin it serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense.” – Emerson