I’ve been reading “William Carlos Williams: Poet from Jeresy.” by Reed Whittemore. I have been hearing from people who say “I saw you at South Station,” and then wondering when I was at South Station. And then remembering that my face is all enlarged and grinning as part of
Brian Bresnahan’s “Head’s Up” project. I have been doing some
Examiner articles, including a review of
Karen Snyder’s show and a piece on
Lisa Greenfield’s Coil/Recoil. I have been writing.
I have been packing. Strike that. I have been thinking about packing. My departure from Midway is everything but a done deal. I have been fielding questions like “What will happen to 617Midway?” I have been throwing things away.
I’ve been drinking coffee. I’ve been preparing a review of
Michael Davis’s Gravity. I’ve been talking in the phone.
I’ve been
surprised at how the weather
can be as undependable
as the weather. The cold being
colder than any October
since last year, the rain
aspiring to snow and not
making it. I’ve been
dreaming red
wheelbarrow dreams
and looking down Boylston Street
for the back of you
and wondering what
would be
if you were there.
Did I mention WCW?
It is worth noting his poem, “This is Just to Say,” as I clean out my refrigerator:
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
I am cleaning out my refrigerator. Wondering which plates in the cupboard might make the cut. Listening to House of Pain’s “Top of the Morning to You” as I blog, and I’m tripping the light fantastic in Syracuse memories.
Speaking of the light and the fantastic: What more proof do you need of time travel than this:
“How fast it went when I was laughing, and how very slow
when the world had convinced me, martyr. When I had convinced me
martyr. Shouldn’t each person, in these prisons,
be given the gift of joy?
And the regret, then, of time passing so swiftly?”
Anyhow, speaking of plums and refrigerators and WCW: It is also worth noting Kenneth Koch, as it always is, and his “Variations on a theme by William Carlos Williams.”
1
I chopped down the house that you had been saving to live in next summer.
I am sorry, but it was morning, and I had nothing to do
and its wooden beams were so inviting.
2
We laughed at the hollyhocks together
and then I sprayed them with lye.
Forgive me. I simply do not know what I am doing.
3
I gave away the money that you had been saving to live on for the
next ten years.
The man who asked for it was shabby
and the firm March wind on the porch was so juicy and cold.
4
Last evening we went dancing and I broke your leg.
Forgive me. I was clumsy and
I wanted you here in the wards, where I am the doctor!
+ + +
Speaking of plums. Or, almost speaking of plums: Pic above is from
wikipedia. While I am open studios-less this weekend, “Blue Cowboys” is posted up on the 5th Floor of 300 Summer if you miss it and want to take a look.
I have been walking into
Tantric and looking at “Target/Target” and “Steel Heart” looking back at me. All these layers and collage and all these eyes over plates and eating.
I have been ending blog posts suddenly, and then wondering at adverbs. Like this:
Adverbs?
