poetry corner

Terminator. 

Dear Readers,

Solstice Greetings!  You know I only want to give you the best; the stuff I am the most besotted with, the most enthused by, the most singful of praise for.  And so.  I read a book that was full of the sexism of its time, and it was okay, even with all that rubbish, but, and yes, who knows that my little missives to you here won't be dismissed as sexist in 60 or 70 years?  But, the point is that 'meh' is not for the Dodo.  The point is also that amid vast leaf piles of meh one can find a gem fairly regularly, and so I give you this poem, Spring and Fall, which was in the meh book.

I hate to admit my ignorance, (but if I don't admit it, I will continue endlessly in ignorance!) but, why are there these little diacritical marks all over this poem?  I know some of you learned English Majors can enlighten me....

anti-model

 

Dear Outraged, Again,

I have had a few positive models for my behavior, but I have oodly scads of anti-models.  People I don't want to act, look, or sound like.  This is troubling enough, this fact, but it isn't what I want to tell you about.  What I want to tell you about is this way that we kind of search out, hunt for, things to be outraged over.  I think we do this.  Like we like to go on the scary ride at the amusement park, or watch the scary movie (uh, well, actually I don't like to do those things, but I think it is still valid) to feel a little thrill.  We look for things to be angry at or to hate because it feels like something, at least.  And no one knows how the microwave love works anyway, so hate is a lot easier to work with.  I know I do this, so I don't say this to suggest that you should change and I should not; I say it so that maybe we can consider our outrage more thoughtfully.  No, no, I don't mean eliminate it entirely, I mean, maybe we want to reach for it less often.  

I realize we will need some kind of medical patch, or substitute, like morphine, to help us to kick it.  I might try to substitute this kind of reaction:  Isn't that funny?  Isn't it peculiar that such an outrageous thing just happened?  Isn't it interesting, in an cultural anthropology way?  

Oh, and yet.  I suppose maybe it doesn't even matter to try to improve oneself in this self-absorbed kind of way; we all lead these double lives:  One life is Hi, how are you, I am fine; and the other life is I will be crying the minute I get home today, and tomorrow, too, and the day after that.

Ground Plane XX

 

blue sky

 

Painting to See the Sky, 1962, Yoko Ono.

Dear Diary,

I think to myself, no, this paleness started when I had to look up what BlueSky is, again, because I cannot seem, still, to get my mind to accept even the phrase 'social media' when it seems so anti-social, and of course, it isn't, but what hive mind horror is it, actually?  I am out on the fringes, just like usual, comme d'hab, and somehow it is even more solitary than when all we had was telephones, the kind with dials and coiled cords.

It makes me think of seeing Jonathan Richman singing his odd songs about milk shakes, in a drafty barn, a long time ago, and there again, I was in a small space; no one I knew had any idea who Johnathan Richman was.  I saw Allen Ginsberg read in the same small barn, oh I couldn't even tell you when or where now, I guess.

I might be continuing pale for some time; and it might be I have always been on margins.

a cuppa

 

Cup of Coffee, `961, Wayne Thiebaud.

Dear Mary-jane/anne/jo/ellen/belle/kate/lou/beth/lynn,

Do y'all have a coffee name?  A name you give when the human behind the counter says "what name shall I call?"  It's a fine thing to try on a different name in these formal situations that are calling for familiarity that has not been established.  Take it from me; because where else would you possibly turn for advice in our e-etiquette world?  That, friends, is a real lol, but you know that, my savvy internet-connected reader!

Giving a not-usual name requires close attention; if you don't listen for all the names, you might not recognize your pseudonym.  And, yes, I like that too; having to stay engaged with all the hub bub around me in line.  I really love the moment when I pick up the paper cup or bag or box, and my coffee name is written on it!  I have an otherworldly disconnect:  how can this be mine??  But, you know, everything was made for you and me!

I used Sharon for a time- not sure why; I think it was because I thought I could 'get away with it.'  Now I know, because I am wiser, that it isn't about getting away with it; it is about enjoyment.  So when you hear Annabelle called, that cortado is mine!

PS  Are you the one, the Super-Curious?  Who wants to know why Annabelle/Anabel/Annabel/Anabelle?  Because Freaky Friday.

atmosphere