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Just Sayin’
This Is Just To Say** by William Carlos Williams I have eaten the plums that were in the icebox and which you were probably saving for breakfast. Forgive me they were delicious so sweet and so cold. This “found” poem, originally a note Williams stuck on the fridge for his wife–is both charmingly clear and
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Riddle You That
Overheard tonight here at the compound: Groom to me: “Wow. Good thing we have these paper towels–because this thing is dripping with honey.” Any guesses?
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Duluth, Minnesota, Versus Manhattan, The Island
Groom and I have been feeling lately that we have too much time and money and not nearly enough stress. It’s all “wake up late, stare at the lake, water the seedlings, play some Doodle Dice, go for a trail run, grill a pork roast, read in Jeffrey Toobin’s THE NINE about the appalling politicization
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Aloha Pillow Talk
I often trudge, stone-faced, through the hours of 9 a.m.-8 p.m. At 8:01 p.m., however, I go all Tom-Cruise-On-Oprah’s-Couch. Without fail, once darkness falls, the quarter slides into my internal jukebox, and I light up, song lyrics tumbling from my lips; spontaneous-yet-well-choreographed musicals high kicking it in the kitchen; animated one-way conversations with the
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Sound of a Funky Drummer
I am an enormous pain in the hinders. On the other hand, I am also a tuition-paying student at the Flava Flav School of Elusive Charm. Flav and me? We tote our clocks; we sport our grillz; we hook up with statuesque Nordic types; we view life as a cost-effective backdrop to our own VH1
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Just Where I Am
I’m typing this while sitting atop a brick red duvet, leaning back against a bright-purple down pillow. On the tv is a re-run of the Saturday Night Live hosted by Tina Fey (blogging troubador Furiousball best described her as “one of the women I’d like to lick the make-up off of” some months back); right
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Species: Dinkus Dorkus
So have you ever thought to yourself, “Well, now, Martha, hasn’t it been an age since we’ve had a nice photo with the kids? And looksie-looksie: we seem to be at that rare moment in time when everyone is clothed and within yodeling distance of a bath! Yes, let’s do.” Clapping your hands together
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Mockingbirds and Tortoises
Damn Darwin. Were it not for his meddling ways, I’d still be catching a daily nap just before–okay, more honestly, during–“Oprah.” But he just had to go to the Galapagos and stare at all sorts of birds and turtles. Then he wrote that thing. And suddenly, everyone was in a tizzy, wanting to roar at
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Next Up: A Horseless Carriage
“Giddyup!” I hollered to my team after a long day of plowing furrows in the west field. They were whupped, but I had one more section to turn over before heading back into the cool of the soddy to soak up bacon grease with a hunk of hardtack. Moments later, I slowed the mules
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Unwrap This
Roughly forty-one years ago, on March 25th, my mom didn’t know what to get my dad for his birthday. Somehow “a child” seemed more creative than “a Mickey Mouse necktie.” So on my dad’s 32nd birthday, my mom, spinal-blocked but fully conscious, pushed me out of her girl bits. Half an hour later, she
