Tuesday, August 31, 2004


Jorie Graham

Over a dock railing, I watch the minnows, thousands, swirl
themselves, each a minuscule muscle, but also, without the
way to create current, making of their unison (turning, re-
entering and exiting their own unison in unison) making of themselves a
visual current, one that cannot freight or sway by
minutest fractions the water's downdrafts and upswirls, the
dockside cycles of finally-arriving boat-wakes, there where
they hit deeper resistance, water that seems to burst into
itself (it has those layers) a real current though mostly
invisible sending into the visible (minnows) arrowing
motion that forces change --
this is freedom. This is the force of faith. Nobody gets
what they want. Never again are you the same. The longing
is to be pure. What you get is to be changed. More and more by
each glistening minute, through which infinity threads itself,
also oblivion, of course, the aftershocks of something
at sea. Here, hands full of sand, letting it sift through
in the wind, I look in and say take this, this is
what I have saved, take this, hurry. And if I listen
now? Listen, I was not saying anything. It was only
something I did. I could not choose words. I am free to go.
I cannot of course come back. Not to this. Never.
It is a ghost posed on my lips. Here: never.

Heaven Is Overrated

Currently crushing on this poet, Jorie Graham, and her book A Dream of the Unified Field. Want a copy. As if I can find it in this country. *sigh*

Finally finished writing my introductory essay for my thesis collection. Still not sure if I want to make them independent poems or to make it into a cycle. Finally realized that this is where the real work will begin, and I want to experiment on my writing - I think I'm getting too comfortable in the style I'm using right now. Still feel as though I need more material though - 22 poems is not an easy thing to do, particularly if my adviser thinks that I will have to start from scratch. Still, I think I'm up for the challenge, now that I have the bulk of my essay out of the way.

Started writing fiction, again - maybe in the hopes that I can pass something for Mr. K's class before the next deadline comes again. Still have another poem due, and must start writing those papers for English 191 before I get swamped again. Also excited - the week is shaping up to be real good, with dinner with the girls of the Purple Patch; a celebration at Meat Shop with Gandalf and the boys (and girls); a movie with Ruzela; Moki's Lysistrata play which we must see before we all run out of money and time; and a photo shoot with Hiyas and a knife. Let's just hope my check comes through before the end of the week so that I'll have extra money - I have exactly the right gift for The Boy on his birthday.

And Maia, something pink your way comes. (By the way, I'm keeping my fingers crossed for you.)

Aster...*sigh* What the hell am I going to get you? Leopard bikini briefs for Paulo?

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