Sunday, April 26, 2009
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
encountering the poet laureate (and her grandson) in SF
merits a bit of text:
A Hundred Bolts of Satin
by Kay Ryan
All youhave to lose
is one
connection
and the mind
uncouples
all the way back.
It seems
to have been
a train.
There seems
to have been
a track.
The things
that you
unpack
from the
abandoned cars
cannot sustain
life: a crate of
tractor axles,
for example,
a dozen dozen
clasp knives,
a hundred
bolts of satin—
perhaps you
specialized
more than
you imagined.
Years ago, this poem got it all started for me. A dear friend pointed out that it's a bit dark, and he may be right, but there's always something to see even then. She was very nice. Her grandson, too.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Friday, April 3, 2009
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