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Friday, July 04, 2003

So the US offers 25 million for Hussein. What does one get for an impersonator? Glad to see the geniuses are still at work in the white house.

One more before lunch. Just got a call from a friend who has huge troubles, of which one finds little advice to offer and feels inadequate. It reminds me of this from Donne's fifth meditation:

A Sicknesse is the greatest misery, so the greatest misery of sickness is sloitude; when the infectiousness of the disease deterrs them who should assist, from comming....Solitude is a torment which is not threatened in hell it selfe.

Why do we love Gerrit so much here at Yoo Doo Right? Because he brings lovely and/or interesting people into his home. Because he puts up with me sometimes talking about things I know nothing about and gently puts me in my place. Because his mind is like a reading list I'll never get through. Because his porch overlooks the harbor and the fireworks are visible from it and the rock at Stage Fort Park is visible with each blast. Because he reads all our blogs and comments on them. Because everyone should go on his Olson tour around the park some day and see the 'tansy buttons'.

Yeah, this should be a poem. Sure, I'm in love with Gerrit, but who isn't? I may never write a crush list, but you can see where this is going....

Wednesday, July 02, 2003

I try to keep this blog about poetry (and try not to post if I have nothing to say), but I really do enjoy it when poets I know or would like to meet give us the most mundane aspects of their lives. It makes this experience warmer, I think. Things like "Non-poetry things I must do today" are fun, almost in a Frank O'Hara way. Some even come with line breaks.

I'm being serious here. Amanda's blog is wonderful this way almost in its entirety (or maybe just because we all love Amanda so much). So, in that spirit, things I have done today (by 3pmEST):

Woke up early (to beat the crowds) and drove with the Fabulous Lucy to White Horse beach on the Cape (Cod). An acquaintance once referred to this as the "Working-class part" of the Cape (meaning not over the Sagamore bridge and certainly a safe distance from the Kennedys). Although he claimed to be joking, it was obvious that he made a slip that showed a little more about his character than he wanted shown. Anyway, the beach was fantastic until all of the working-class folks showed up at noon with their screaming kids and radios. Which brings me to the point of this story: When did large men begin thinking it ok to wear thongs? Scary...

Drove into Plymouth Center for lunch. Lucy had a hot dog (which she hated) along with a full plate of smiley-faced fries (which she loved) and a ginger-ale. Me? Burger (rare-which was in fact actually rare), fries with no facial characteristics, soda.

Longish drive home. Both of us are resting before we hit the playground. Then maybe sushi, who knows? Lucy loves wasabi (no joke).

Monday, June 30, 2003

Unedited excerpt from a long long long really fucking long piece that's been hanging on the racks for quite some time. Last night's discussion on library filtering software brought it back to mind. I'd call this juvenilia, but that, for me, is like 25 to 30. Tentative title: Guess What

in long division now
consider recent verbs
jump dangle and dance
it is with great relief we inform on you
our data base and your books
a skilled life made fresh by wounds

at the base of your neck I found
a talisman carved
as if your neck were wooden
and wouldn’t you love that
to wake with a wooden neck
proof of a life lived!

let’s go over this again and
again: you are a hero after two, no,
three drinks and four smokes
at 17 a log rolled into the harbor
say a log that lives half in the ocean and
half out, protected by salt

and sea greens, the sun on
half of you only half the day
but your clothes are not your clothes
your skin on loan from nature
(Late one summer evening I had
just this thought, as if the best use of

the body were to hold on to nature’s
smallest excesses. And here’s the poem:

These are
the days, dear,
of the cowboy
president.
Tomato is a
vegetable and
trees cause
pollution.

Nonetheless I
dream you up
and pull the sheets
closer
I will not run from
the cowboy
I will not rush
to work

but not a good poem, just a
mood stabilizer and a
tranquilizing gun) your body rolls
as you spit sea water onto your stomach

i’ve levelled the tiniest objects first

Sunday, June 29, 2003

Thank you, Kasey, for always going the extra mile on your blog. Has to be one of the best-looking out there.

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