Pig and farm report
Dear Darklings,
these poems I'm writing after a long absence from writing poetry I have to furious dance to shake whatever ghosts inhabit my body before I can write them and I have to have absolute silence and I have to be completely alone while I'm writing them now I am warmed up according to my watch that watches I danced furiously for 28 minutes today in spite of a sharp pain in my right knee this morning which now feels loose and full of brand new blood I have lost weight since I moved here a year and 3 months ago not at all from sickness but from happiness from walking from swimming from gardening from horseback riding from an abundance of fresh produce from a lack of restaurants fast food or otherwise without at least a half hour drive and from happiness again most of all happiness and now it is easy to move my body as I did in the olden days and I am filled with joy because there I am a young self inside my elder body but the poems refuse to escape unless I move like that so they are the most physical poems I have ever written literally ever today I am waiting for my son to leave he came yesterday to guard my PTSD from the Cable Guy who turned out to be sweet and nice and funny and he wore giant paper booties on his shoes like a physician going into surgery and his name was Anthony and he set me up with a new speedy fast router and he changed all the settings on all my computers big and small and he scratched Jupiter behind her ears and laughed when I called Jupiter you big ho because well I had no idea how she'd do with strangers because there have been virtually no strangers in my house since last April when I adopted her and after and during and after my stomach curled into a tight knot and ached and ached and ached deep into the night
I keep remembering DOGNURSE blowing me off when I complained about my PTSD saying oh don't we all have it now as I was trying to tell her that I literally hid in my closet when anyone anyone at all knocked at my door I could no longer trust her and have not trusted her since and once I find a new improved psychiatrist I'm going to tell her how deeply her off-hand comment affected me
the great blue heron was in the reeds this morning his long dangerous stunning beak tucked into his chest feathers also I have been watching the alpacas during storms they huddle in and as soon as the storm passes they spread out and they are adorable this morning I saw 19 horses and one foal who turned out to be a brown goat in other news the wind is up again and the rain and it blew all kinds of crap into my immaculate garden but the spuds are up! in spite of the storm! well done little potatoes I will love you with my whole heart and eat you with butter and salt amen
Love also
TATER LOVE!
posted by Radish King at 2:27 PM
6 Comments:
Woman! This post just made me smile and smile and smile and I am smiling now, not only with my mouth but with my eyes and all of me.
It's funny but I find almost all of the repairmen who come to my house so charming that I want to adopt them and sit around and talk to them. I am grateful for that.
And another thing- okay, I feel clumsy in my thoughts but what I want to say is that it is so ironic and fitting and a bit satisfying that finally, you are in a place where you are happy and maybe feeling stronger and good for the first time in forever and ever and it's because your mother, the one who made those things so hard to be in the first place, died.
Win-win!
Is that cruel?
I love you to pieces. Keep dancing. Keep writing. Keep seeing all of those wonderful animal gods.
Mary, thankfully my darling uncle the colonel-turned-broker took that money away from her and made it grow for us all of us who got a piece of her ugly pie. Win win yes!!! I love you.
Rebecca
Oh I am so happy you are happy. 80 pounds is a lot of sadness and haunting to shed and I’m so so glad you moved to the island and that house where you can dance and then write these poems of your life, these razor blade poems pouring out of you because that was then, and now you can dance and make it art. Love love love
Dearest R, thank you thank you thank you. A lot of sadness and haunting by you-know-who I am convinced. Thank you for continuing to be here through all of it. Love
Rebebecca
A professional with a helping/healing job description who says what DOGNURSE said should be drummed (by Keith Moon) out of corps. Trivializing each other under any circumstances, words fail me at the moment. Ah, then there is the rest of your post full of dancing (Harry Nilsson, sigh), beauty, baking, thriving, continuing to celebrate the win-win (some of the best news ever when you told us), simply becoming. And Henry with a publisher for consideration. I am, I believe most of us are, buoyed as those we love bloom like the lilacs and potatoes, there is more than enough good for all. Love you, my friend. Hurrah! xoxo
Marylinn hello! I visit your namesake tree every morning it is now taller than I an so regal and hilarious. Of course all my trees have distinct personalities so it goes. Love to you my friend. This morning I counted 21 potato plants the exact number I planted up and greening in spite of the wind which is still up. That will make...
63 potatoes or more. I plan on taking the leftovers to the food bank. Love love and I knew you would know Harry dear heart.
Post a Comment
<< Home