I liked this poem on today's Verse Daily:
Popular Science
She drops the big white bullet palm to palm
to palm like stepping down on swinging stairs
to the top of Big Rock Candy Mountain,
where the good cells sing in the cigarette
trees and there's always ice and whiskey too.
Her mouth's blistered from chemo and she's full
of holes as she goes where hydrocodone
grows in the acetaminophen shoals.
She laughs when I write our hearts make morphine.
She writes you're three hours away happy in a book,
floating in a tub.
Copyright © 2008 Steve Davenport All rights reserved
from The Literary Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
Monday, September 22, 2008
Saturday, September 20, 2008
From the internet "Relationship Advice Files:"
Farts happen . . . . But just because you're comfortable enough to pass gas in front of your partner doesn't mean it should be a free-for-all. You or your partner should try to remain discreet and, at the very least, say excuse me.
This one made Dean and I laugh out loud. And I'm not sure, but I think one of us may have pooted.
Farts happen . . . . But just because you're comfortable enough to pass gas in front of your partner doesn't mean it should be a free-for-all. You or your partner should try to remain discreet and, at the very least, say excuse me.
This one made Dean and I laugh out loud. And I'm not sure, but I think one of us may have pooted.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Baby stilletos? Now I have seen everything. Heelarious.
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This video is disturbing, to say the least.
Man has thinnest waist in the world.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Monday, September 15, 2008
I love this quote from today's Word a Day:
"If you want to build a ship, don't drum up people together to collect wood and don't assign them tasks and work, but rather teach them to long for the endless immensity of the sea." These timeless words of Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, the French author and aviator, sum up what it means to lead."
Imagine this applied to the teaching of poetry: craft vs. quest; instruction vs. inspiration.
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"If you want to build a ship, don't drum up people together to collect wood and don't assign them tasks and work, but rather teach them to long for the endless immensity of the sea." These timeless words of Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, the French author and aviator, sum up what it means to lead."
Imagine this applied to the teaching of poetry: craft vs. quest; instruction vs. inspiration.
*
Friday, September 12, 2008
Back from PT. I had a nice trip. The weather that day was AMAZING. I had a really easy drive up, the highlight of which was crossing the Hood Canal Bridge after about a 15 minute delay for submarine traffic (the fact/irony that it was 9/11 and there were submarines moving in and out of the the canal was not lost on this liberal left wing pinko fag).
I got to town mid-afternoon and took a walk around. Then had a wonderful meet-up with Kathryn at Siren's, out on the deck, way up over the water. Perfect weather. Scintillating conversation. The kind of day that makes me want to leave Seattle for good and retire up here.
The reading that night at Northwind Arts went over pretty well. Rebecca and I had a full house -- I think they said 55 people -- which is pretty darn good for a poetry reading in a small town (Port Townsend is a bit bigger than Wasilla, AK, but not by much). I read just a couple poems from WWotB, and the rest was all new stuff. Not from the Expedition of the Vaccine poems (which are not quite ready for prime time) but from the poems I've been writing the past year or so. I was a little freaked out that Copper Canyon had a table set up to sell my books, and here I was not really reading from them. Hopefully the new poems went over well, and word will get back that Peter needs a new book. ~grin~
Rebecca also read just a couple poems from her books, and the rest was all new stuff from her forthcoming Cadaver Dogs. I love Rebecca's poems, but they are not usually "easy listening," and these were no exception. Intense, feral, menacing, erotic, surreal. Not at all for the faint hearted. I think a lot of the people in the audience were either puzzled -- perhaps a bit disturbed -- by them, or totally won over and blown a way.
After the reading many of us went to Ellie and Carl's place. I had way too much wine, and was so happy to crash at K's. But I had to get up at 5:30 AM to make the 7 AM ferry back to Seattle, to be at work this morning. And I paid for it: Ouch -- busy day, double-booked with patients, tons of paperwork waiting in my inbox. Ah well. Who said one didn't have to suffer for art? (groan)
I got to town mid-afternoon and took a walk around. Then had a wonderful meet-up with Kathryn at Siren's, out on the deck, way up over the water. Perfect weather. Scintillating conversation. The kind of day that makes me want to leave Seattle for good and retire up here.
The reading that night at Northwind Arts went over pretty well. Rebecca and I had a full house -- I think they said 55 people -- which is pretty darn good for a poetry reading in a small town (Port Townsend is a bit bigger than Wasilla, AK, but not by much). I read just a couple poems from WWotB, and the rest was all new stuff. Not from the Expedition of the Vaccine poems (which are not quite ready for prime time) but from the poems I've been writing the past year or so. I was a little freaked out that Copper Canyon had a table set up to sell my books, and here I was not really reading from them. Hopefully the new poems went over well, and word will get back that Peter needs a new book. ~grin~
Rebecca also read just a couple poems from her books, and the rest was all new stuff from her forthcoming Cadaver Dogs. I love Rebecca's poems, but they are not usually "easy listening," and these were no exception. Intense, feral, menacing, erotic, surreal. Not at all for the faint hearted. I think a lot of the people in the audience were either puzzled -- perhaps a bit disturbed -- by them, or totally won over and blown a way.
After the reading many of us went to Ellie and Carl's place. I had way too much wine, and was so happy to crash at K's. But I had to get up at 5:30 AM to make the 7 AM ferry back to Seattle, to be at work this morning. And I paid for it: Ouch -- busy day, double-booked with patients, tons of paperwork waiting in my inbox. Ah well. Who said one didn't have to suffer for art? (groan)
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
I had a fun time at the Floating Bridge reading last night. Nancy Pagh read from her chapbook, After, which is a series of poems about a painful relationship that has ended badly. To write the poems, she turned to poems like Dickinson's "After great pain, a formal feeling comes," and Eliot's "Prufrock," and others, and wrote a poem "after" it. A kind of imitation, or riffing off, of the original. For the reading, Nancy had planted several people in the audience who would stand and read the original poem, and then she would read her "after" poem. It set up a really interesting call and response kind of energy, something I had never seen done before at a reading, and I liked it.
*
I have been on CME this week (continuing ed at UW). I usually do this conference every September, because it's convenient, and it's really very good. So far the most interesting presentations have been: Moe Haglund's talk on the management of ascites (she is such a hoot; she could be Ellen and have her own talk show!), Al Berg's latest on the USPSTF (United States Preventative Services Task Force) guidelines: he is just so matter-of-fact about it, and takes no prisoners. Rebecca Dunsmoor-Su's talk about chronic pelvic pain and the "Neuromatrix"--if I were a woman with pelvic pain, I would go see her.
It's kind of fun to be "back in school" for a few days, and to walk around the campus, and down the halls of the medical center (it's where I went to med school and did my residency, so there are a lot of memories here). But how in the hell did I (or anybody) ever sit through all those hours & hours of classes? Egad. I am bored silly and sore in the butt from sitting after 2 hrs max, and need to get up and move. And besides, it has been just GORGEOUS out the past few days. And it would be a shame to miss out on the sunlight and the Vitamin D.
*
I am reading in Port Townsend Thursday, for the Northwind Arts series. I have no idea what I am going to read yet. Lately, I have been starting with new stuff, and then reading from the last book. But I'm bored with that, and want to mix it up a little. Hmmmmm . . . . we'll see what I can come up with.
*
*
I have been on CME this week (continuing ed at UW). I usually do this conference every September, because it's convenient, and it's really very good. So far the most interesting presentations have been: Moe Haglund's talk on the management of ascites (she is such a hoot; she could be Ellen and have her own talk show!), Al Berg's latest on the USPSTF (United States Preventative Services Task Force) guidelines: he is just so matter-of-fact about it, and takes no prisoners. Rebecca Dunsmoor-Su's talk about chronic pelvic pain and the "Neuromatrix"--if I were a woman with pelvic pain, I would go see her.
It's kind of fun to be "back in school" for a few days, and to walk around the campus, and down the halls of the medical center (it's where I went to med school and did my residency, so there are a lot of memories here). But how in the hell did I (or anybody) ever sit through all those hours & hours of classes? Egad. I am bored silly and sore in the butt from sitting after 2 hrs max, and need to get up and move. And besides, it has been just GORGEOUS out the past few days. And it would be a shame to miss out on the sunlight and the Vitamin D.
*
I am reading in Port Townsend Thursday, for the Northwind Arts series. I have no idea what I am going to read yet. Lately, I have been starting with new stuff, and then reading from the last book. But I'm bored with that, and want to mix it up a little. Hmmmmm . . . . we'll see what I can come up with.
*
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
Sunday, September 07, 2008
It's been sunny in Seattle this weekend. Summer's last hurrah? It was such a cool and wet August. We may not even get enough ripe tomatoes for sauce for the first time in . . . er . . . well . . . ever.
Dean and I spent a couple hours cleaning out the garage yesterday. Took a load to the dump and took a load to the shredder. We're thinking of having garage sale in a couple weeks. We'll empty out stuff from the storage locker and the basement (you know you have too much "stuff" when you have to rent a storage locker to store it). Glassware and dishes we never use anymore; framed art that we are tired of; odd pieces of furniture; books; extra garden pots and tools; maybe some of the camping gear, who knows. We did this about 10-12 years ago, and it was incredibly liberating. Hmmmmm.
*
An interesting essay in Slate about the art of the poetic blurb:
Even if it comes from the most corrupt and sordid favor-trading, grant-grubbing, academic back-scratching sources, it's clear that those who are good at it are so very good at it that their work rises above its origins and deserves special recognition. It is not some degraded adjunct of contemporary poetry but perhaps its very apotheosis. It would be a tragedy to lose the poetry, of course, but to lose the even more brilliant blurbs!
*
One of my writing groups meets for the first time in a couple months (we took most of the summer off). I am so looking forward to it!, but I have no idea what to bring. I'll spend some time looking through the files today. It's odd, but needing to bring a poem to group usually gets me going to read, revise, and even sometimes to draft something totally new at the last minute. I try to resist the tempation of bringing a totally new poem draft to group, though. It usually ends badly.
*
Dean and I spent a couple hours cleaning out the garage yesterday. Took a load to the dump and took a load to the shredder. We're thinking of having garage sale in a couple weeks. We'll empty out stuff from the storage locker and the basement (you know you have too much "stuff" when you have to rent a storage locker to store it). Glassware and dishes we never use anymore; framed art that we are tired of; odd pieces of furniture; books; extra garden pots and tools; maybe some of the camping gear, who knows. We did this about 10-12 years ago, and it was incredibly liberating. Hmmmmm.
*
An interesting essay in Slate about the art of the poetic blurb:
Even if it comes from the most corrupt and sordid favor-trading, grant-grubbing, academic back-scratching sources, it's clear that those who are good at it are so very good at it that their work rises above its origins and deserves special recognition. It is not some degraded adjunct of contemporary poetry but perhaps its very apotheosis. It would be a tragedy to lose the poetry, of course, but to lose the even more brilliant blurbs!
*
One of my writing groups meets for the first time in a couple months (we took most of the summer off). I am so looking forward to it!, but I have no idea what to bring. I'll spend some time looking through the files today. It's odd, but needing to bring a poem to group usually gets me going to read, revise, and even sometimes to draft something totally new at the last minute. I try to resist the tempation of bringing a totally new poem draft to group, though. It usually ends badly.
*
Saturday, September 06, 2008
Thursday, September 04, 2008
I was going to read a couple poems from Ted Genoways' new book, Anna, washing, before my afternoon nap today. But I ended up reading the whole book from cover to cover in one sitting. I just couldn't put it down. It's a wonderful sustained historical narrative, a novel told in sonnets, a book-length poem sequence, if you will. Anna of the title is Finnish, and has immigrated with Abe Malm (a boy who was left to her care many years before, when she was 20 and a maid, and is now her husband) to Alaska in the Gold Rush days, carrying an 80lb washing machine on her back. The book tells the story of her and Abe's life together: surviving the Gold Rush by washing the clothes of miners, surviving the land's hardships and a small pox outbreak, other illnesses and more. It's a love story at heart, but a very different kind of love story. The language is beautiful, and spot on for the time, and reminds me a lot of Melinda Mueller's gorgeous book-length poem about the Shackleton expedition, What the Ice Gets. Though, at times, the strict sonnet form was a little monotonous, for my taste (some are broken up by using cascading lines, and that helps), I really really enjoyed these poems. Highly recommended.
Who says it's only poets that suffer from a typo? Looks like some cake-makers nearly bit the dust because of one:
The error was spotted after printing, letters were sent to subscribers, and inserts were added to store issues. But these warnings didn't reach everyone. One group of people still tried out this horrifically over-nutmegged recipe, and the four suffered poisoning symptoms like dizziness and headaches.
"A poet can survive anything but a misprint." -- Oscar Wilde ...
*
At least 1.5 million Americans fall prey to hospital error every year. The mistakes aren't exactly minor, either. Between 40,000 and 100,000 people die every year because of shoddy handiwork, including surgical mishaps and drug mix-ups. The death toll from mistakes is at least as bad as that from car accidents or breast cancer, and maybe as bad as that from strokes.
*
The error was spotted after printing, letters were sent to subscribers, and inserts were added to store issues. But these warnings didn't reach everyone. One group of people still tried out this horrifically over-nutmegged recipe, and the four suffered poisoning symptoms like dizziness and headaches.
"A poet can survive anything but a misprint." -- Oscar Wilde ...
*
At least 1.5 million Americans fall prey to hospital error every year. The mistakes aren't exactly minor, either. Between 40,000 and 100,000 people die every year because of shoddy handiwork, including surgical mishaps and drug mix-ups. The death toll from mistakes is at least as bad as that from car accidents or breast cancer, and maybe as bad as that from strokes.
*
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
This is an interesting story about the fight over Kafka's papers. The Castle is one of my favorite novels of all time. And to think, the world never would have seen it if Max Brod had complied with Kafka's last request to have his papers burned.
*
Sarah Palin's 17 year old daughter Bristol is pregnant. Hmmmm. The daughter of an anti-choice, right-wing, no-sex-before-marriage, Republican. As Dr. Phil would say: How is that "Abstinence-only" sex education working for you?
Perhaps Palin will do the right thing, and resign her vice presidential nomination, so she can spend more time with her *family.* It sounds like she really needs to.
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*
Sarah Palin's 17 year old daughter Bristol is pregnant. Hmmmm. The daughter of an anti-choice, right-wing, no-sex-before-marriage, Republican. As Dr. Phil would say: How is that "Abstinence-only" sex education working for you?
Perhaps Palin will do the right thing, and resign her vice presidential nomination, so she can spend more time with her *family.* It sounds like she really needs to.
*
Monday, September 01, 2008
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