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Posts Tagged ‘snow’

password

I could tell you my password

I could whisper it in your ear

in what manner would you use it, what threshold would you cross?

I would not like to see the new film, the one that is sublime and exquisite

my bones used to spiral within me, exquisite and sublime

born perfect

bones perfect

password protected

crossing into the next threshold which has its own rules of perfection, laws by which I cannot abide

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greetings, if I have any readers left

just playing around with words right now

it’s been so long

nothing doing but snow again in Western Mass

how’s by you?

 

 

 

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Indeed it snowed

Indeed my teenage daughters built a snow fort (the second of winter! after many years of no forts!)

Indeed it is spring

Indeed my m key is sticking

IMG_1339

Cat Walk

black ice boot tracks

footprints in the snow

sidewalk running

[now a line that rhymes, but I HATED and therefore deleted it. You can figure it out because you are so smart!]

ipsilateral/contralateral

cat gait trot pace

howling at the moon

crust snow, rust snow

pink blue

glow

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[Tuesday, dusk]

what I have accomplished of late:

that my eyes glaze over at poems I read online

that I perceive myself as impatient

that I baked bread without sufficient kneading

that I preheated the oven too early

that I have begun myriad posts exactly like this one and you will never know them. There was one about snow. One about our lack of snow. One about the snow ending though it never began and how much I miss les neiges d’antan.

The heavy rain. I had a dream that it was thick, wet snowflakes. I still believe that the dream was real. I could almost catch them on my tongue, right while I was lying in bed.

In an hour, I will pull the loaves from the oven, let them cool enough to run a giant knife through one. I will slab butter (unsalted only please!) on the slice and look ahead into my life.

The rain is falling in sheets, back-lit by the pine boughs, the neighbor’s fence out my window. The light is beautiful, the green needles, the red, brown, and black mottled bark. Transport me Lord.

I went outside to photograph what I thought was a white crocus. It was half an eggshell dragged from the compost by some critter. What do you think? a squirrel? a crow?

[NEXT DAY. NOW COMPLETING POST. DIG IT, BABY, DIG IT]

I attended the Western Massachusetts Sacred Harp Convention for a few sunlit and glorious hours on Saturday morning. It does transport me. I’m already feeling pretty silly about my whining.

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blogger’s block

IMG_1206

I saw 2 male cardinals in the back yard this morning, such bright red. What else is bright red around here? Not much, not that particular red.

It seemed unusual, one male cardinal chasing the other in flight.

I have had some health challenges of late and maybe that is why I haven’t been writing here. Pain and exhaustion. Pain and questions. Boring boring health problems when all I want is to do as I please at all times that I please.

I am not writing poetry much more or less than any other time, I suppose, but I am working on a manuscript for submission. I get into a great space when I am working on it, a little vague when I’m not.

I know it’s a risk to lose readers when I don’t post regularly and it pulls at me.

My cat, she is crazy. Maybe the most bizarre and hard-to-love cat we’ve ever had. Just now? She had her front paws around the leg of the kitchen table, right next to my feet. Like she was in love with the table leg, hugging it.

The other morning, she climbed partway up the wall between the kitchen and basement landing. I had never seen that before. She jumped and clung pretty high up, I’d say about 4 feet and her body lingered there for at least a few seconds. That’s a long time when you are trying to defy gravity on a vertical surface with no footholds.

The cat is stir crazy, crazy for spring. Me, I want the snow we were promised on Saturday, the snow that never came. I am not ready for spring. I am glad for the snow and cold we’ve gotten even if I DO NOT LIKE the overcast skies day after day. I could do with more snow.

I think about the ocean a lot. I miss it. A winter ocean; a summer ocean; a tropical ocean; Ipswich, Cape Cod, my great loves. Even though I love the winter when it’s sunny and cold and when we get a lot of snow, I always love the ocean.

We were in Rockport, Mass last weekend, right on the ocean, but it was already nighttime and dark out and we could not see it. By morning, we got caught in a massive blizzard and had to hightail it west so we would not get stranded on Cape Ann.

I am the only one in the family who consistently loves the cat. She is a pain in the ass, always attacking humans when she wants to be fed. But she knows. She knows I’m the one who feeds her. So she hangs around me.

I saw the cardinals and I hope the cat will not get one come spring. This cat has never brought me a bird. Only mice and chipmunks. She is a keen attacker of human flesh (exposed feet, tender thighs) but maybe not a great hunter.

This you know.

(here is the link to this image: http://www.centralpark.com/usr/media/contest/winners-winter-2009/large.2nd.place.3.jpg)

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here is the poem now

Breath of Snow

each flake is
a message

dreams numbered and ordered
until they fall into chaos

if the facts wouldn’t melt away
and I could hold proof
of the year that passed
in my waiting hand

the biding of time
the unbidden rhythms
that rise and fall like breath

I am trying to make
a rhythm like the snow
sixes
or sixes split into 2s and 3s

I can’t

because I have fallen outside the laws of
science and nature

I fall
and fail
and seek
a crystal from another galaxy
where the numbers shift into different forms
and I find the one
that was made for me

where I belong
unfallen

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IMG_4262

My Ohio friends say snow snow snow, but I don’t think it will come our way. I’ve been telling you this for a while now. I can believe in the Solstice and the return of the light, but I can’t believe in snow.

I looked up a recent post and an image had disappeared from it. Was it my own photo or a photo from the web? I don’t know, but I’ll add something back.

I started watching Downton Abbey and I like it a lot. I am in love with all of the good characters; and though I see my humanity in each, I hate all the bad ones.

When I was growing up and we spent Christmas in Canada with our very best family friends, we did celebrate Boxing Day. No one in the US had heard of Boxing Day yet.

We would walk and walk on their 50 acres, we would drink and eat and play games and laze about the house. This was my Christmas for many years after the age of 7.

I am going to submit some more poems starting this week including at least one manuscript. I’ve been on hiatus but the rejections still trickle in. The one online poetry journal that accepted a poem seems to be out-of-commission, but I can’t know for sure until I hear something further. It’s been a couple of months since my submission was accepted and now, POOF!, even their website lies fallow….

After this post, I will post a poem in a separate post. Until then (in a few minutes!), please enjoy this musical interlude:

This is from Saturday night’s concert in Montague.

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hearts and flowers and puppies and unicorns

I suppose I never was a puppies and unicorns kind of girl, but I do remember writing my first name together with the last names of certain crushes when I was in school. Okay, not only grade school. High school. Maybe even college.

Hearts and flowers are okay. I like hearts and flowers.

My latest love is one like the red number up there.

Chez nous, I am the Queen of the Thermostat. In the morning, I set it to 68-69 degrees. This heats the house to about 65 degrees. The furnace guys told me that it is calibrated in such a way that it will always heat the house to around 4 degrees lower than where I set the temperature. We still have an “old-fashioned” dial thermostat, not a fancy digital one. When we converted the house from electric baseboard heat (SO INEFFICIENT AND HIDEOUS!) to natural gas, central heat 12 years ago, we were trying to save a buck. It’s okay; I don’t need no fancy beans and ketchup.*

At night, before I get into bed, I turn the thermostat to about 65. This puts us at 61 degrees at night. Sometimes, I am too wimpy and I leave it so it’s only 62 or 63. But 62 or 63 is too warm and by the middle of the night, I am gasping for cool air and uncovering layers of down and wool.

I have recently discovered our hot water bottle. Nightly, I fill this little red puppy with hot water from the kitchen tap and I am good to go. Why didn’t I start doing this four years ago when I first began to have cold feet all winter long? I do not know. But I am addicted. But in a good way. A healthy way. Except for all of the hot water I am using. But it probably saves on furnace heat. Oh me, oh my, the choices a privileged American girl must make.

You may wonder if I would like something fancier than my red rubber hot water bottle; it is close to Christmas after all.

Something like this, mayhaps?

No, no. I am strong enough to resist the charms of David Hasselhoff and I would NOT like to have his likeness in my bed.

What about one of those knitted covers?

NO! I actually like the feel of the rubber on my feet.** I like to roll the bottle around until it is just right and I suspect that a cover would interfere with my ability to manipulate the bottle pedially (the theoretical adverbial form of the word pedial). I think it might also make it too warm under the covers.

There is one small problem though. It rains in October. It rains in November. It rains all the way throughout December.

Ou sont les neiges d’antan?

I think the days of snow are gone.

Maybe I should let it snow on my blog. But it may be too close to using something like an emoticon and you don’t want me to break character, do you?

I wish this were the only version of White Christmas I had ever heard. Let us hope: from your mouth to God’s ears, Otis Redding; from your mouth to God’s ears.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

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** I do not have a rubber fetish

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