Fantastic! This is my approach to parenting, by the way.one of my all time favorite quotes.
You will never hear me described as a “glowing” pregnant lady.
I hate Mozart. Hate him with that healthy
pleasure one feels when exasperation has
crescendoed, when lungs, heart, throat,
and voice explode at once: I hate that! —
there’s bliss in this, rapture. My shrink
tried to disabuse me, convinced I use Amadeus
as a prop: Think further, your father perhaps?
I won’t go back, think of the shrink
with a powdered wig, pinched lips, mole:
a transference, he’d say, a relapse: so be it.
I hate broccoli, chain saws, patchouli, bra—
clasps that draw dents in your back, roadblocks,
men in black kneesocks, sandals and shorts—
I love hating that. Loathe stickers on tomatoes,
jerky, deconstruction, nazis, doilies. I delight
in detesting. And love loving so much after that.
Laure Ann Bosselar
Folsom PrisonI love Johnny. When I found out I was expecting our first son Johnny and June had just passed away and, while listening to an NPR tribute to the duo, we realized that John Carter would be our son’s name (it’s their son’s name as well). I just found out today that I am expecting another boy and, yet again, we’re stuck on the name. I know it will come to us in a flash of inspiration, just as John Carter did. I really am rooting for Guthrie, though. Maybe they could start a band.
A fellow Georgia girl whom I admire very much. I woke up with this poem on my mind this morning and later found out that her birthday is on Thursday. Maybe I am being haunted by the spirit of Carson.
Love And The Rind Of Time What is Time that man should be so mindful: The earth is aged 500 thousand millions of years, Allowing some hundred thousand millions of margin for error And man evolving a mere half-million years of consciousness, twilight and terror Only a flicker of eternity divides us from unknowing beast And how far are we from the fern, the rose, essential yeast? Indeed in these light aeons how far From animal to evening star? Skip time for now and fix the eye upon eternity Eye gazing backward or forward it is the same Whether Mozart or short-order cook with an infirmity Except the illuminations alter their shafts Except we would rather be Mozart, we want to last as long as Possible, to radiate, to sing Although in eternity it may be the same thing. In God’s cosmos according to report Nothing lapses, no gene is lost After centuries may bustle in the sport Which will in time command the line. Those who find it a little harder to live And therefore live a little harder, As struggling gene in oceanic plant Predestine voluntary cells that give The evolutionary turn to fish, then beast With multiplying brain that dominates earth’s feasts. From weed to dinosaur through the peripheries of stars From furtherest star imperiled on the rind of time, How long to core of love in human mind?
book ceiling
I like this. It reminds me of the student who asked me today “Do you have a book OVER women in the civil war?” If the library looked like this then I would have books OVER everything now wouldn’t I?
