Monthly Archives: January 2012

Appropos of nothing

I received this poem in my email this morning, and think it’s worth reprinting here. I love how the poet starts off in a folksy way, as if Galileo were a friend, and the poet was simply remembering a conversation. … Continue reading

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Sad, jailed piano

From my morning walk in Venice–a photo: And in sympathy, all the normally white parts of my computer screen, like this page, have turned florescent pink.  Blog posting will be suspended while I seek expert help.

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Poets and their mothers

I’ve been reading Adam Zagajewski’s recent book of poetry, Unseen Hand, translated by Clare Cavanagh. Zagajewski writes in Polish, and I’ve long admired his work. I encountered this poem of his just after I had reread a poem of Larry’s … Continue reading

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Rain rain beautiful rain

Do you know that song by Ladysmith Black Mambazo? It’s been in my mind these last rainy days after such a long stretch of winter sun.  I love looking out and watching storms move over the bay. Of course, the … Continue reading

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Wild and Weegee

Waiting for the late baby, I had time to notice the streets of Venice. It isn’t really surprising that a city that was originally a pleasure park, with canals crafted after the developer had been to Venice, has it’s wacky … Continue reading

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The peculiar behavior of chickens

I’ve been letting the chickens out into the winter garden to weed and fertilize. I cover or fence off the few crops I don’t want them to eat. But the chickens are curious and persistent. Yesterday, they managed to peel … Continue reading

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Olive: the movie

You may remember that for a week or so last summer, our house was host to a movie crew, and I got to meet one of my favorite actresses.  Now the movie, which I wasn’t allowed to talk about then, … Continue reading

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The Late Baby

I spent the last few weeks in LA, mostly waiting for a grandson, who was born just a week ago. More about some LA sights later this week. Suffice it to say that there is plenty of weirdness in the … Continue reading

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New Year’s Day Poems

As an act of self-promotion, suicide is hard to beat. Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, most recently Amy Winehouse—their overdose deaths are part of their legend. And would we read Sylvia Plath or Ann Sexton with the same attention without their … Continue reading

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