Thursday, February 28, 2013

looking for a tiny hint of spring...any hint...anywhere...


by Richard Wilbur

A word sticks in the wind's throat;
A wind-launch drifts in the wells of rye;
Sometimes, in broad silence,
The hanging apples distil their darkness.

You, in a green dress, calling, and with brown hair,
Who come by the field-path now, whose name I say
Softly, forgive me love if I also call you
Wind's word, apple-heart, haven of grasses.

Tuesday, February 5, 2013


by Louis Jenkins

January finally drags into February and one fumbles with
numb fingers at the ordinary knots and hooks of life. People
are irritable, difficult. Some days you want to stay in bed
with the covers over your head and dream of paradise. A
place where the warm sea washes the white sand. There
are a few palm trees on the higher ground, many brightly
colored fish in the lagoon, waves breaking on the reef
farther out. No one in sight. Occasionally an incredibly
large, split-second shark darkens the clear water. Sea birds
ride the wind currents, albatross, kittiwake, ... and pass
on. Day after day, sea wind and perfect sky .... You make a
big heap of driftwood on the beach

I've been down for the count with  all of some variation of the many influenza strains not covered by the 2013 flu vaccine. There's been much moaning and gnashing of teeth; usually the cat, as I've attempted to carry him with me from one unsatisfactory lay-about spot to another. Fortunately I was able to catch up with years worth of Law and Order episodes I had missed while I was busy working and living a life so was able to see what Chris Noth, AKA Mr. Big, looked like when he was, I don't know, eighteen/nineteen years old. Handsome dude at ay age.

Today will be my version of the Flu Treadmill Test whilst I go grocery shopping in the midst of snow falling. Here in CinCity that's the Bat Signal to rush to any food market and buy up all the bread and milk on the shelves. Gluten and lactose be damned.