Wednesday, November 6, 2013

Tuesday, November 5, 2013

Lately...


 + Saw this production of Sleeping Beauty that I really, really loved.
+ Bread: here and here.
+ Did you catch the Youtube Music Awards? It was directed by Spike Jonze and it was really messy but I really liked the makeshift creativity of it (music videos, short films were shot on the spot, live etc.)
+ I've been reading more of Charles Simic's poetry and I really like it. Much to learn!
+ I thought Kate Bosworth's wedding dress was really beautiful.
+ "Now that you don't have to be perfect, you can be good." I think I'm really starting to understand this.


Monday, November 4, 2013

The Prodigal

Dark morning rain
Meant to fall
On a prison and a schoolyard,
Falling meanwhile
On my mother and her old dog.

How slow she shuffles now
In my father's Sunday shoes. 
the dog by her side
Trembling with each step
As he tries to keep up. 

I am on another corner waiting
With my head shaved.
My mind hops like a sparrow
In the rain.
I'm always watching and worrying about her.

Everything is a magic ritual,
A secret cinema,
The way she appears in a window hours later
To set the empty bowl
And spoon on the table,
And then exits
So that the day may pass,
And the night may fall
Into the empty bowl,
Empty room, empty house,
While the rain keeps
Knocking at the front door.

Charles Simic

Friday, November 1, 2013

I can't stop thinking about it



The Parrot Fish

The shadow of the little fishing launch
Discreetly, inch by inch,
Crept after us on its belly over
The reef's uneven floor.

The motor gasped our drowsy vapor.
Seconds went by before
Anyone thought to interpret
The jingling of Inez's bracelet.

Chalk-violet, olive, all veils and sequins, a
Priestess out of the next Old Testament extravaganza,
With round gold eyes and miniscule buckteeth,
Up flaunted into death

The parrot fish. And for a full hour beat
Irregular, passionate
Tattoos from its casket lined with zinc.
Finally we understood, I think.

Ashore, the warm waves licked our feet.
One or two heavy chords the heat
Struck, set the white beach vibrating
And throwing back its head the sea began to sing.


James Merrill

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