A crate of lemons discharges light like a battery.
Icicle-shaped carrots that through black soil
Wove away lie like flames in the sun.
Onions with their shirts ripped seek sunlight
On green skins. The sun beats
On beets dirty as boulders in cowfields,
On turnips pinched and gibbous
From bulging rocks, on embery sweets,
On Idahos, Long Islands and Maines,
On horseradishes still growing weeds on the flat ends,
On cabbages lying about like sea-green brains
The skulls have been shucked from,
On tomatoes, undented plum-tomatoes, alligator-skinned
Cucumbers, that float pickled
In the wooden tubs of green skim milk—
Sky-flowers, dirt-flowers, underdirt-flowers,
Those that climbed for the sun in their lives
And those that wormed away—equally uprooted,
Maimed, lopped, shucked, and misaimed.
In the market in Damascus a goat
Came to a stall where twelve goatheads
Were lined up for sale. It sniffed them
One by one. Finally thirteen goats started
Smiling in their faintly sardonic way.
A crone buys a pickle from a crone,
It is wrapped in the Mirror,
At home she will open the wrapping, stained,
And stare and stare and stare at it.
And the cucumbers, and the melons,
And the leeks, and the onions, and the garlic.
From “The Avenue Bearing the Initial of Christ into the New World”
By Galway Kinnell
I spent last weekend in a dream-like state with family friends. We loll and spend a sublime time. As my yoga teacher says, All choices correct. Their home is one of my favorites for a thousand reasons. Some activities: dying eggs, dining, putting together Easter baskets, hiding eggs, talking to someone who understands, house looking, dining, family, church, singing, art, browsing, photography, learning, remembering. Life is rich.
Movies: Casino Royale (dvd), An Unfinished Life (dvd), Miss Potter (theatre).
This week I finished typesetting the poem you just read. I am interning for an afternoon here and there with my former book arts instructor and company. They are teaching me letter-press printing and typesetting.
Book: The Tortilla Curtain by T.C. Boyle, reserving judgment till it is finished.
Preparing: pasta with fresh tomato sauce (sublime concoction) and Sharing Time.
Poem: Apology for Bad Dreams by Robinson Jeffers.
Best Newspaper Title: Mirror (see Kinnell poem)
