October 15, 2014

She cannot come all the way

 

She comes as far as water no further

 

She comes with the birth push

Into eyelashes into nipples the fingertips

She comes as far as blood and to the tips of hair

She comes to the fringe of voice

She stays

Even after life among the bones

 

She comes singing she cannot manage an instrument

She comes too cold afraid of clothes

And too slow with eyes wincing frightened

When she looks into wheels

 

She comes sluttish she cannot keep house,

She can just keep clean

She cannot count she cannot last

 

She comes dumb she cannot manage words

She brings petals in their nectar fruits in their plush

She brings a cloak of feathers an animal rainbow

She brings her favourite furs and these are her speech

 

She has come amorous it is all she has come for

 

If there had been no hope she would not have come

 

And there would have been no crying in the city

 

- Ted Hughes

perspective, perspective

This picture is two years old.

Tim's dad emailed it to me yesterday.

I like this girl.

I see how hard she is trying and I wish her well. 

Today I am wearing this same dress, black leggings, another grey hoodie. 

I feel so much older, sadder.

I am dropping every possible ball.

I am exhausted. I am embarrassed.

I resent the world and blame it. 

I disappoint myself. 

 

 

But I am trying to show her a bit of grace. 

 

on poetry on the internet

I'm thrilled to bits. I just finished making and uploading text galleries like this one (for A Cozy Home) to accompany each of the digital zines.

 

This is the first time I've been really happy with the way my poems have appeared on the internet. The click-through gallery means that the pieces can be ordered (as they are in a book or zine), that only one poem is on screen at a time, and that the whole poem is on screen--no scrolling is required to read to the end. 

Now I should probably get dressed and clear the bed of laptop, papers, bread-and-jam. Let me know what you think, hey? And Happy Sunday!