Sunday, October 21, 2012

In case you're wondering...

...this is why a liberal arts education matters. From October's Poetry, reprinted from its first publishing in that same magazine in 1958.

Private and Profane 
by Marie Ponsot
From loss of the old and lack of new
From failure to make the right thing do
Save us, Lady Mary Wortley Montagu.
     From words not the word, from a feckless voice
     From poetic distress and from careless choice
     Exclude our intellects, James Joyce.
From genteel angels and apostles unappalled
From hollywood visions as virgins shawled
Guard our seeing, Grunewald.
     From calling a kettle an existential pot,
     From bodying the ghost of whatever is not,
     John save us, o most subtle Scot.
From pace without cadence, from pleasures slip-shod
From eating the pease and rejecting the pod
Wolfgang keep us, lover of God.
     Couperin come with your duple measure
     Altar our minds against banal pleasure.
Durer direct with strictness of vision
Steady this flesh toward your made precision.
     Mistress of accurate minor pain,
     Lend wit for forbearance, prideless Jane.
From pretending to own what we secretly seek,
From (untimely, discourteous) the turned other cheek,
Protect our honor, Demetrius the Greek.
     From ignorance of structural line and bone
     From passion not pointed on truth alone
     Attract us, painters on Egyptian stone.
     From despair keep us, Aquin's dumb son;
     From despair keep us, Saint Welcome One;
     From lack of despair keep us, Djuna and John Donne.
The zeal for free will get us in deep,
That the chance to choose be the one we keep
That free will steel self in us against self-defense
That free will repeal in us our last pretense
That free will heal us
     Jeanne d'Arc, Job, Johnnie Skelton,
     Jehan de Beauce, composer Johann,
     Dark John Milton, Charter Oak John
Strike deep, divide us from cheap-got doubt,
Leap, leap between us and the easy out;
teach us to seize, to use, to sleep well, to let go;
Let our loves, freed in us, gaudy and graceful, grow.

Does anyone know anything about Marie Ponsot?? Her other poem in this month's Poetry, "A Visit," is also swell. It reminds me of my grandmother a lot (sans the gin). I just really dig the vim with which she wrote.

Wednesday, October 17, 2012

Downer of the Day

Ok, I'm really sorry, and I know this is might sound negative and uncharitable, but this month's Poetry has some real stinkers -- like, hoo boy, some of this stuff is bad. One example:


My Weather

BY JANE HIRSHFIELD
Wakeful, sleepy, hungry, anxious,
restless, stunned, relieved.

Does a tree also?
A mountain?

A cup holds
sugar, flour, three large rabbit-breaths of air.

I hold these.


Oh for goodness sake. What is this?? I don't even want to talk about it.

That's not to say it's all bad -- Deborah Paredez and Mary Karr's stuff is really interesting (and Karr's poems are about David Foster Wallace, which Serena intuited w.o even knowing they used to date, because Serena, as I've said before, is really really smart). But for goodness sake.

Sunday, October 7, 2012

A Whole Passel O' Gloves

Various gloves, most of which were in Harlem:



This is a block or two from the Upper West Side whole foods. A true glove bonanza.









But sometimes NY is really beautiful (skyline via Queens).


Ugh, Solange Knowles, Ugh

Why are you perfect? Ugh, ugh.



Tuesday, October 2, 2012

A few Floyd Co. highlights




Many of the ol' homesteads are now used as hay barns
A thrift store 4 turns and 20 minutes from anywhere.


I'm not sure whether to be frightened or reassured.

Greens Garage: an organic/local food store on a gravel road which runs completely on the honor system.

Vitro Yoyo out on Shawsville Pike, also home of Boogles' Pro Wrestling Camp.


 

Last Days of Farm Life


 
 
 


 


Sunday, September 30, 2012

Letters from Home: Learning Contentment

I have a fat envelope of letters and postcards from many of you this summer. I looked forward to getting those letters this summer like a 5-year-old on Christmas Eve. Thank you so much. Your wit and love helped me through the low points and the lonely times. If I may without boring all y'all, I'd like to share an excerpt from a letter my dad sent me right before I left the farm on contentment which I found particularly timely on one afternoon when I just wanted to leave:

"Not even much of a gay time with customers at the cash register [Dad works at the local grocery store]. But most days are so. And there is perhaps more to learn and to grow in by these kind of days. How to be satisfied takes a lot of learning in many different places. Perhaps that's why I think a clear eye is so important; beauty has it's place in every satisfaction. A hurried mind and impatience makes us blind."

Thanks for that reminder, Dad.