Itinerantdaughter's Blog

For you I’ll connect

all the stories in the world…

My boss’/my (?) literary agent turned me on to this poet…

Trying to Pray

This time, I have left my body behind me, crying
In its dark thorns.
Still,
There are good things in this world.
It is dusk.
It is the good darkness
Of women’s hands that touch loaves.
The spirit of a tree begins to move.
I touch leaves.
I close my eyes and think of water.

One of the only things I know by heart…

I knew a woman, lovely in her bones

When small birds sighed she would sigh back at them

Ah, when she moved, she moved more ways than one

the shapes a bright container can contain

Of her choice virtues, only God should speak

Or English poets who grew up on Greek

I’d have them sing in chorus, cheek to cheek

How well her wishes went

She stroked my chin

She taught me turn, and counter-turn, and stand

She taught me touch, that undulant white skin

I nibbled meekly from her proferred hand

She was the sickle, I, poor I, the rake

Coming behind her for her pretty sake

But what prodigious mowing we did make

Love likes a gander, and adores a goose

Her full lips pursed, the errant note to seize

She played it quick, she played it light and loose

My eyes they dazzled at her flowing knees

Her several parts could keep a pure repose

Or one hip quiver, with a mobile nose

She moved in circles, and those circles moved

Let seed be grass, and grass turn into hay

I’m a martyr to a motion not my own

What’s freedom for?  To know eternity

I swear she cast a shadow white as stone

But who could count eternity in days?

These old bones live to learn her wanton ways

I measure time by how a body sways

(I’ve forgotten/not included the punctuation…shapes change when words become memories…)

Writing [sic]

gets me all hot and bothered

The poet has insomnia. What should she read to help her sleep?

A) The Golden Notebook, by Doris Lessing

B) Gertrude Stein

C) Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand

D) The Bible by God

FOR IMMEDIATE AND WIDESPREAD RELEASE

Hello dear subjects!

This is the Universal Director of Rationale here.  Many of you have expressed to me recently that you are oftentimes confused or anxious as to whether a not a social outing is technically a “date.”  So, we’re cementing the following part of the definition to put everyone’s mind at rest:

If someone asks you to out to do something and then pays for you(r food, beverages, movie ticket, transportation, etc.) it is automatically a date.

Any possible specifications to be debated on by the Committee of Rationale and added accordingly.  As always, questions/comments/concerns can be directed to the UDR’s secretary, Juan Carlos.

Sleep well, lovelies!

Kisses,

ID

“His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.”

…prompted by getting stung by a bee, which made me feel wistful and nostalgic for something that I don’t think ever happened…

I am exhausted, I am exhausted —
Pillar of white in a blackout of knives.
I am the magician’s girl who does not flinch.
The villagers are untying their disguises, they are shaking hands.
Whose is that long white box in the grove, what have they accomplished, why am I cold.

–– from “The Bee Meeting” by Sylvia Plath