Tag: Books and Poetry

06 Oct

Sitting careless on a granary floor

13 Sep

Sometimes a banana is just a … quasar

Sometimes a banana is just a … quasar
23 Aug

Help Mom! There are liberals under my bed

22 Jun

The Chicks Are Alright

so much depends upon a red wheel barrow glazed with rain water beside the white chickens. ~ William Carlos Williams [the Red Wheelbarrow]
17 Jun

Canis Major under the knife

24 May

Whence Is the Flower?

Chelsea Flower Show 2005 — Britain’s greatest gardening show. The BBC has full coverage throughout this week. On Being Asked, Whence is the Flower?In May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes,I found the fresh Rhodora in the woods,Spreading its leafless blooms in a damp nook,To please the desert and the sluggish brook.The purple petals, fallen [...]
29 Apr

Hie, you extravagant and erring spirit

One, perhaps even two of our half-fluff/half-feathered chicks are mangling a crow these mornings — not nearly a “lofty” sounding throat yet. Usually a good omen — especially since they’re sending away those evil spirits in our haunted guest room: The cock, that is the trumpet to the morn, Doth with his lofty and shrill-sounding throat Awake [...]
25 Apr

Drooling and slurring like a drunk

This morning, as I nearly jerked out of the dentist’s chair, he said: “Oh, hit your funny bone, didn’t I?” “Mohagh [Bone, in English]?!” I asked. “No, not really your bone,” he chuckled, “just your nerve. You’ll be VERY numb now. Sometimes I go for months without hitting one, and then [...]
24 Apr

Song of … Nemesia

Today I planted pansies atop the stone walls around the chicken coop John built and filled the hanging baskets on the back porch with moss and cranberry-colored Nemesia hybrid, which should hang down nicely in contrast with the pale yellow of the house. Dung and dirt more admirable than was dream’d …~ Whitman [Song of [...]
23 Apr

John is sick as a dog … 101.5 degrees

… and we’re really sorry to be missing the big event in New York tonight.Please forgive us? For oft, when on my couch I lieIn vacant or in pensive mood,They flash upon that inward eyeWhich is the bliss of solitude;And then my heart with pleasure fills,And dances with the daffodils.~ Wordsworth, from “I Wandered [...]