“i don’t mind the weather
i’ve got scarves and caps and sweaters
i’ve got long johns under slacks for blustery days
i think that it’s brainless
to assume that making changes
to your window’s view will give a new perspective”
Anna:
Breaking chocolate is what I do, as you already know. I am here now, fussing about the impending semester and all matters attendant. I will be in and out of the office during the week but certainly in come Wednesday and Thursday when classes kiick off. Can we find each other then? (We might alos try to enlist the telephone. A method at least as good as the e-mauil, no?)
Mexico was a joy. We studied, met nice people, enjoyed the weather, our classes, the pension we always stay in, the ambiente of the place, etc. You may want to go there before it turns relly horrible. (One of the really horrible items is the amount of graffitti covering almost all the walls and buildings. truly a dispicable item and one of our great exports, I fear).
Call or write and we can work something out, hopefully.
Your January went well?
You’re settled and ready?
And Bret, Bret, yes? is fine?
Martin
i love this man!
where do our minds go
when they’re out there on their own?
no sense of sensual input
no picture scent nor sound
then light won’t shine
trails won’t lead
and waves won’t reach their shores.
without a map
or words to read
–they , float–
)
)no
)
) t h i ng
)tohan
) g
)
)
)on t o
) .
dear katherine,
i had nearly twenty years to read your eyes, but i never got it right. you accepted life however it came…you were stubborn in your own way, i suppose, but for the most part you lived the lakeside life. i would have liked to have known you then, when your words were less a grandmother’s and more an athlete’s. i would have liked to have seen you calculate the prices of apples and oranges and lock up the doors at night. most of all, i would have liked to have seen you embrace the man i never met.
but i’m glad i saw the you i saw. i’m glad i held your hand last week, and i’m glad my mom wrote me letters about you. i’m glad we made buscuits, copied recipes, and played cards. and most of all, i’m glad you loved my dad…because he loved you. he loved you and we loved him. and we loved you. we love you. we will love you.
i pray. i pray for the others that i don’t understand. i pray not for my understanding but for their comfort. make me compassionate. selfless. dear katherine. i will miss you.
thank you for nearly twenty years.
love anna
her heart screamed
but she remained
tight
at war with war and more
torn skin
and filthy.
“Deep in a Russian winter long ago, two old babushkas, thawing out a sack of frozen buckwheat seeds in a clay oven, discovered just how cozy the heated sack was when held close. They squabbled about who should cuddle it first until, wisely, they divided it into two smaller bags and happily snuggled one each. To warm their featherbeds that night, they tucked their Hotties between the sheets. Later, after an especially lively celebration, the whole village soothed their vodka headaches with bags of the frozen buckwheat seeds. And that’s how it all began…or so we imagine.”
what did you think i’d give you, crap?
