A good week for readjusting my schedule, if I do say so myself. Last night was a little later than I would have liked but I was happy to spend time playing some strategic Idiot. There were crazy, crazy hands involving actual showdowns and freakish moments when you were convinced you were going to have to pick up the entire pile only to have the person before you lay the perfect card. We also listened to some Bob Dylan bootlegs which were of suprisingly good quality. The night ended with ridiculous Huxtable references and the reading of some really bad poetry in the Atlantic Monthly fiction issue (except for Squeezebox by James Reiss which is not this poem, but this one's good too:
Lily
Went out & scissored a lily, brought her inside
to study her fuzzy brown anthers loaded
with pollen, her needle-thin pistil & filaments
down to her ovary. Noted her sepals
were dotted with droplets; her waxy gold petals
were stippled with pigment, the comeliest rust spots,
like freckles on the face of a tomboy agog
in a tree house at twilight. Saw how, twice-dappled
with drizzle & beauty marks, she tilted a bit in her vase
toward my pencil as if she could lift to write
& tell me the checkered tall story of all things in bloom.
Saw two of her petals were nibbled—by a rabbit? a fawn?
Wrote how she told me she loathed the incessant devouring
mouths which would strip her & call her a woman.
Copyright © 2004 James Reiss All rights reserved)
This weekend is going to be a tame one. I want to farmer's market tomorrow morning and am determined to make that eggplant parmesean I've been talking about all week. There's some work to be done on the barn and some work to be done on some papers assuming I can procure the use of a computer. I also just checked out the Pevear/Volokhonsky translation of The Brothers Karamazov because I'm really into pain.
Snakes on a Plane is probably a must as well.
And the last 4 episodes of Deadwood, Season 2.
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