A stone, a leaf, an unfound door...

2012-01-21T15:04:00.006-06:00

"I was both scattered and stymied, surrounded by unfinished songs and abandoned poems. I would go as far as I could and hit a wall, my own imagined limitations. And then I met a fellow who gave me his secret, and it was pretty simple. When you hit a wall, just kick it in." Patti Smith, from Just Kids

2012-01-21T11:33:00.000-06:00

"I drank because I wanted to drown my sorrows, but now the damned things have learned to swim." Frida Kahlo

2012-01-20T19:26:00.000-06:00

Happy Trails, Etta.

2012-01-16T20:37:00.002-06:00

Thanks
by W. S. Merwin

Listen
with the night falling we are saying thank you
we are stopping on the bridges to bow from the railings
we are running out of the glass rooms
with our mouths full of food to look at the sky
and say thank you
we are standing by the water thanking it
smiling by the windows looking out
in our directions

back from a series of hospitals back from a mugging
after funerals we are saying thank you
after the news of the dead
whether or not we knew them we are saying thank you

over telephones we are saying thank you
in doorways and in the backs of cars and in elevators
remembering wars and the police at the door
and the beatings on stairs we are saying thank you
in the banks we are saying thank you
in the faces of the officials and the rich
and of all who will never change
we go on saying thank you thank you

with the animals dying around us
our lost feelings we are saying thank you
with the forests falling faster than the minutes
of our lives we are saying thank you
with the words going out like cells of a brain
with the cities growing over us
we are saying thank you faster and faster
with nobody listening we are saying thank you
we are saying thank you and waving
dark though it is

2012-01-14T10:28:00.001-06:00

From the new Tom Waits vinyl. Very good stuff. A shout out to some Raised Right Men!

2012-01-13T20:33:00.002-06:00

In Dreams, I am never eating

Am I ever gonna get my Ferrell's burger? I am eating almonds
out of a can and dreaming of a bacon cheesebruger with Ferrell's
onions. But I have no friends to come and take me to get one.

Ahhhhhhh, but we must have our dreams.

2012-01-10T19:40:00.003-06:00

I Had To Put Molly To Bed

Just because she would not stop looking at me.
It is unnerving at times. She had been fed,
taken out to potty, petted and loved on,
given a treat, looked at and praised. But, she
would not stop looking at me. I was trying
to watch a movie, Beginners or something
like that. I was very focused but could see
her watching me watch the screen, could
feel her intensity when the scene shifted
to the father's death. She did not attempt
to paw at me, as she so often does to get
my attention. She just simply kept looking
at me. So, I paused the film, got the treat
bag out, told her what a good girl she was,
led her to the crate--which she very willingly
entered--and gave her some of those fancy
organic things for dogs. She seemed happy
enough at the moment. She is there still.
The movie is not over. I feel as if I relegated
her to child who cannot understand
the emotion, who does not need to view
the dymanics of relationships, who must
certainly, above all, be spared such pain.

No one will watch you more or as intensely as your dog. A book I read last year (Inside A Dog, I think), discussed this "watching." Unless Molly is eating, romping, sleeping, or going to the bathroom, she is watching me. She watches me: cook (of course, hoping I will drop a morsel), watch a movie, talk on the phone, read, dance, clean the house, cry, laugh, smoke a cigarette, put something together, eat. When I turn out the lights to go to sleep, there she is--watching me as I pull the covers up and try to get comfortable. Always watching with those big brown eyes.

2012-01-09T21:29:00.001-06:00

2012-01-09T21:26:00.000-06:00

2012-01-08T17:55:00.004-06:00

“My experience reinforced my sense of dedication to use my art form of photography as an inspiration for others to work together to save nature’s places of spiritual sanctuary for future generations.” Clyde Butcher

2012-01-08T17:52:00.001-06:00

Artist Statement“Wilderness, to me, is a spiritual necessity. When my son was killed by a drunk driver it was to the wilderness that I fled in hopes of regaining my serenity and equilibrium. The mysterious spiritual experience of being close to nature helped restore my soul. It was during that time, I discovered the intimate beauty of the environment.” Clyde Butcher

2012-01-07T16:57:00.002-06:00

Looked All Around

for the recorder. It was after I heard the lone bird send out
a message of some sort. It would be easier to just talk
into the recorder. Just let my voice open up. Like the
unknown bird in the tree who just graced my evening.

2012-01-05T20:12:00.000-06:00

I recommend this documentary by Margaret Brown: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0423853/

2011-12-30T21:38:00.000-06:00

I saw Patti at a place in Nashville in 97. A place no longer there. I think it was called 329 Performance Center, but I am most likely wrong. What is not wrong about the memory is what an amazing performer and artist she is. And, as the venue was small and intimate, I was in front of the stage, and as she started this song, I had my hand outstretched hoping she would take hold of it, and she did. And she held my hand for some time. And, I felt energy. I felt connection. I felt the life force. And I mean that in all seriousness. It was profound. Not just because she is Patti Smith, but because I felt there was something she knew. I can feel the touch still. I am not trying to present her as idol or any better than I am. What I felt was the touch of one human who knew pain to another in pain. It was a good moment. "You're not alone. You're not alone. You're not alone."

2011-12-30T08:10:00.000-06:00

Happy Birthday to Patti Smith!

2011-12-27T20:30:00.002-06:00

Christmas Eve

Now my father carries his old heart
in its basket of ribs
like a child coming into the room
with an injured bird.
Our ages sit down with a table between them,
eager to talk.
Our common bones are wrapped in new robes.
A common pulse tugs at the ropes
in the backs of our hands.
We are so much alike
we both weep at the end of his stories.

Ted Kooser

2011-12-26T23:44:00.000-06:00

I did all my best to smile. "Did I dream you dreamed about me?"

2011-12-26T22:46:00.000-06:00

There is always some crying going on. I think it's ok, yes.

2011-12-23T21:48:00.004-06:00

Not An Unexamined Life

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/radley-balko/generations-against-the-d_b_1167761.html?ref=fb&src=sp&comm_ref=false

Very glad I know this strong woman and get to call her daughter, as she is and forever shall be. She's a feisty little thing who does not back down when things get uncomfortable and who stands by her convictions and works so very, very hard. I am proud of all of my children and grateful for all they do for themselves and others.

2011-12-23T21:48:00.000-06:00

One of the songs performed at TADP's (Tennesseans for Alternatives to the Death Penalty) benefit Monday night, hosted by none other than my little girl.

2011-12-23T10:26:00.002-06:00

Merry Christmas, dear visitors! A very blessed holiday to those I know--Laurel, Jim, Karen, and Jo. May you find some moments of peace and joy this holiday season and in the year to come.

2011-12-23T10:22:00.001-06:00

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2011-12-13T08:12:00.000-06:00

The Remains

I empty myself of the names of others. I empty my pockets.
I empty my shoes and leave them beside the road
At night I turn back the clocks;
I open the family album and look at myself as a boy.

What good does it do? The hours have done their job.
I say my own name. I say goodbye.
The words follow each other downwind.
I love my wife but send her away.

My parents rise out of their thrones
into the milky rooms of clouds. How can I sing?
Time tells me what I am. I change and I am the same.
I empty myself of my life and my life remains.

Mark Strand

2011-12-06T20:50:00.001-06:00

Light Snow Alert

As Molly and I walk the streets of the old neighborhood--a light snow falling--I realize I think too much about all of the things I can never be again and too little of all of the things I may be and can be and am.

2011-11-28T22:22:00.000-06:00

2011-11-27T19:32:00.000-06:00

2011-11-20T22:29:00.001-06:00

Laurel, I heard this one night driving in the darkness of the Mojave, the lights of the city still visible. I felt so keenly alone in the midst of my belonging.

2011-11-17T19:28:00.001-06:00

2011-11-17T19:21:00.003-06:00

A Shout Out To Nikky Finney!

I am so stoked that Nikky Finney won this award!
My youngest son has her this semester for his poetry
class at UK. I heard her read about 6 years ago
and fell in love with her poetry.

And, I have to say that my son has much respect
for her as a teacher and a poet.

2011-11-16T18:41:00.000-06:00

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2011-11-11T10:14:00.001-06:00

2011-11-07T20:50:00.002-06:00

The latest Food Rules: an eater's manual:

http://www.theatlantic.com/life/archive/2011/11/maira-kalman-illustrates-michael-pollans-influential-food-rules/247676/

Spinach salad with goat cheese, dried pears, spiced walnuts, and a balsamic vinaigrette for dinner tonight. Yum!

And a Boo Radley walk with Molly (wind and leaves blowing down some dark streets).

2011-11-07T19:06:00.000-06:00

2011-11-05T09:54:00.004-05:00

53

Yesterday. And the days keep rolling along.

And I post poems here and there and then pull them
because they are unfinished and never fully say
what I am trying to say.

And it's sunny and cool today. The kind of perfect work
in the yard day. But I most likely won't work in the yard.

I have abandoned it.

Thanksgiving in less than 3 weeks. Everyone home, which
will be wonderful. But, oh my, the challenges. Trying
to cook for so many different types of eaters. Lauren
is gluten-free (which makes things like traditional stuffing
out of the question, but I found a Micheal Symon recipe
in Food & Wine that may work for muffins.) And then,
there's my little Isaac with his multiple food allergies.
Dairy, in particular. So, that will mean rice milk for any
dish that requires milk. Weird fake butter to rub down
the turkey and use in whatever other recipes would
require the real deal ( I think it's sacrilege to forego
butter for that fake stuff, but I don't want my sweet
Isaac to end up in the ER!). No cheese products, so that
eliminates a few things on the traditional menu.

But, I shall prevail. I shall figure it all out.

***********************************

Interesting all these terms one learns when one is the
oldest employee in the office. Nearly all of my co-workers
are in their twenties. One of them yesterday used a term
I had not heard before. It won't come to me now, but
a few weeks ago, she mentioned "motorboating," and
when we went to beach last year, she told me some guy
was wearing a "banana hammock." Ok. And then, Marisa
and I were looking up the word "toboggan" as she and her
new guy have differing opinions on using that word to mean
something one wears on one's head (she tells him a toboggan
is a hat and he says it's a sled and refuses to accept it to mean
hat. She says "cook-out" and he says it's a "barbecue", etc.)
and I could not believe
the definition I found in the urban dictionary (did not even
know there was a UD until yesterday). And then
toboggan led to "modified donkey punch" and this could
have gone on and on, but we did have some work to do.

I am continually fascinated with words and can't believe
how many new words are created daily.

*************************************

For my birthday, my coworkers gave me Michael Pollan's
newest book Food Rules, and a spa certificate. I had a facial
when I was in FL last month--first one. I am going to get
my second one soon!

So, I am reading Food Rules and rereading 1984. I am ready
to join up with the OWS folks.

To the bed I return on this lovely Saturday morning to read
some more and maybe go back to sleep.

In a nutshell, here is Michael Pollan's approach to eating:

Eat food
Mostly Plants
Not too much

Good advice. And food is the real stuff. Nothing processed.
Don't buy anything with over 5 ingredients listed on the label.
Buy organic when you can. Cook your own. Eat little meat.
Drink some red wine.

Some sample Pollan dishes: Roasted Beets and Carrots with Goat
Cheese Dressing. Spicy Green Bean and Tofu Stir Fry with Ground
Bison. Sesame-Chile Kettle Corn. & Chocolate Wafers with Ginger,
Fennel, & Sea Salt (all in this month's issue of Food & Wine).

The major problem I have with cooking healthier food is how
limited I am in what I can purchase. For example, that first
recipe calls for golden beets. I can't get golden beets here.
I can only get one kind of beet. F & W is filled with wonderful
recipes, but I can't find the ingredients. I can susbstitute,
which I frequently do, but it makes a difference to have the
real stuff.

Ok. Enough of that. Back to bed and reading. Food and Big Brother.

2011-10-27T22:30:00.000-05:00

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2011-10-23T17:12:00.002-05:00

I can picture a labyrinth at the end of the walk with mature trees encircling it (at some point in time) creating a canopy for privacy. I also want a variety of garden beds on the right hand side of the walkway. On the left-hand side, obscured by the very tall and still blooming knockout rose, is my father's memory garden with wisteria and roses and a weeping cherry tree and some other plants. It's still a work in progress.

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2011-10-14T14:13:00.000-05:00

my father moved through dooms of love
e.e. cummings

my father moved through dooms of love
through sames of am through haves of give,
singing each morning out of each night
my father moved through depths of height

this motionless forgetful where
turned at his glance to shining here;
that if(so timid air is firm)
under his eyes would stir and squirm

newly as from unburied which
floats the first who,his april touch
drove sleeping selves to swarm their fates
woke dreamers to their ghostly roots

and should some why completely weep
my father's fingers brought her sleep:
vainly no smallest voice might cry
for he could feel the mountains grow.

Lifting the valleys of the sea
my father moved through griefs of joy;
praising a forehead he called the moon
singing desire into begin

joy was his song and joy so pure
a heart of star by him could steer
and pure so now and now so yes
the wrists of twilight would rejoice

keen as midsummer's keen beyond
conceiving mind of sun will stand,
so strictly(over utmost him
so hugely)stood my father's dream

his flesh was flesh his blood was blood:
no hungry man but wished him food;
no cripple wouldn't creep one mile
uphill to only see him smile.

Scorning the pomp of must and shall
my father moved through dooms of feel;
his anger was as right as rain
his pity was as green as grain

septembering arms of year extend
less humbly wealth to foe and friend
than he to foolish and to wise
offered immeasurable is

proudly and(by octobering flame
beckoned)as earth will downward climb,
so naked for immortal work
his shoulders marched against the dark

his sorrow was as true as bread:
no liar looked him in the head;
if every friend became his foe
he'd laugh and build a world with snow.

My father moved through theys of we,
singing each new leaf out of each tree
(and every child was sure that spring
danced when she heard my father sing)

then let men kill which cannot share,
let blood and flesh be mud and mire,
scheming imagine,passion willed,
freedom a drug that's bought and sold

giving to steal and cruel kind,
a heart to fear,to doubt a mind,
to differ a disease of same,
conform the pinnacle of am

though dull were all we taste as bright,
bitter all utterly things sweet,
maggoty minus and dumb death
all we inherit,all bequeath

and nothing quite so least as truth
—i say though hate were why man breathe—
because my father lived his soul
love is the whole and more than all

2011-10-14T14:12:00.001-05:00

2011-10-12T23:35:00.007-05:00

maggie and milly and molly and may
by E. E. Cummings

10

maggie and milly and molly and may
went down to the beach(to play one day)

and maggie discovered a shell that sang
so sweetly she couldn't remember her troubles,and

milly befriended a stranded star
whose rays five languid fingers were;

and molly was chased by a horrible thing
which raced sideways while blowing bubbles:and

may came home with a smooth round stone
as small as a world and as large as alone.

For whatever we lose(like a you or a me)
it's always ourselves we find in the sea

2011-10-12T21:24:00.001-05:00

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2011-10-10T16:51:00.003-05:00

Back Home

Took a trip last week with my friend, Becca. We went to Naples, Fl
to stay with my sister. While there, we went fishing one day at
Ten Thousand Islands, which was quite an experience! I will save that
story for another time. We also went to the Everglades and took
an airboat ride through the mangroves. We took a short
swamp walk while there as well, and we visited the Clyde Butcher
gallery. And, we could not leave the Glades behind without
visiting the Skunkape Research Center. To our surprise, David
was actually there! Then my friend and I took the Key West Express
ferry to Key West for a few days.

All the pictures below are from the Key West trip. I loved the
Butterfly Conservatory and could have stayed in there all morning!

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