Sigh

Words fail me...

Good Poems

Selected and Introduced by Garrison Keillor

I've been really into Garrison Keillor for the last few months. I've moved from listening to his monologues to learning jokes from his ridiculous CDs, much to my family and friends' chagrin.

For the vacation, I skimmed his entire collection of poetry. These are my favorites that I want to come back to:

Letter to N.Y. by Elizabeth Bishop p35
Poem to Be Read at 3 A.M. by Donald Justice p73
The Constant North by J.F. Hendry p105
Happiness by Raymond Carver p149
A Little Tooth by Thomas Lux p176
Sometimes by Sheenagh Pugh p 215
The Three Goals by David Budbill p225
Passengers by Billy Collins p291
The Sixth of January by David Budbill p315

San Luis Obispo - June 25

My family is arrayed around the poker cards
And chips like the spokes of a wheel
In my sister-in-law's belly, my nephew kicks
Their voices rise and fall with bursts of laughter

I could be playing but instead I choose
To sit a bit apart in the golden circle
of lamplight shining on the black leather chair
and observe. I am watching and listening

To them, all together, this my family.
On the couch, my mother is reading her novel,
My father, the newspaper. Outside, frogs are singing
In the creek, now loud, now silent in fear of a skunk.

In my hand, a book of poems that I am crunching through
As quickly as potato chips or dreams or hopes
Reading and pausing and then reading again, I fold down
the corners of the pages even though the book isn't mine

But rather belongs to this house, this rented spot of
Vacation and gathering, a book that I will leave behind
When I go home in a few days, but still the pages of the best
Poems will be marked by me and within myself I will carry remnants

Of those poems and the thoughts that circled in my head this
Evening while I watched my family, so happily at play

Summer Solstice

The longest day of the year yesterday.

Now the seasons begin to turn. The earth tips back the other way.

There is always change, always a whole new start, in every moment.

Summer offers its time to relax. To heal any and all wounds.

To be content.

To Be.

The Sound of Silence

I'm afraid this could describe my blogging of late...

Sometimes, silence is just the thing, isn't it?

Sometimes...

I am simply without words.

Or perhaps not without expression so much as without volition. I get absorbed into the juggling act that makes up my days, and I just don't know which scenes I'd like to share.

When things go badly, I feel bad, and when things go well, sometimes, I feel bad then too. Afraid of things being too good. Afraid of being unkind. I wish that it was possible for everybody to be doing well at the same time.

At least sometimes.

But I know it's not. Among my friends I certainly notice the wide variations in our days and in the things occupying our lives. I keep a busy social schedule because my friendships are so important to me. That, along with work, tends to keep me away from indulging in just-because writing too often.

But sometimes.

Just had coffee with one friend. Had dinner with another Tuesday. Had a party last Friday. Hosting a dinner this Friday. I love that so many wonderful people want to share a part of their lives with me. It's an honor when friends seek me out, and I'll often reschedule my time to be available for them.

Those sometimes are often for me.

In my head, other sometimes are my constant companion. The pasts I've had, the futures I might be going towards. The present that runs concurrently with this one, where my life is very different from my life today. All the sometimes in the world, all gathered together.

Sometimes, I have no words for it all.