Thanks to Tod Lippy at Esopus we have great scans of Doug's work. Here's one to inspire some year-end resolution thinking...

(click image for a better look)

new marxwriter

A small obsession...

Making meringues today

Listening to Caithlin de Marrais' My Magic City and some of Sufjan Stevens' Christmas songs.

Also made this girl in a frame. She's listening.

If the meringues are lovely, I'll post a photo.

art refreshes

Lewis Hyde writes, "The passage into mystery always refreshes," and, "Anything contained within a boundary must contain as well its own exhaustion."

These prints ("We'll Keep Watch," and "The Space In Between") are by Kelly Bowman. she sells them online at Cinders Gallery.

the goose is getting fat

we gave thanks

dance, dance, little lady,

leave tomorrow behind.

-noel coward

Defeat!

Tune your discord-

ant cymbals

that they

no longer shiver

the inner canals

of my (now latched) ears.

Yes. My ears locked

against your wood spoon

on a tin pan. I

called the birds

to lift my hair

& they came

(they understand

the holy

& are ready

always to help

a girl in trouble. I

am my flying body. You,

an idea.

Barren,

no less.

pre-k thanksgiving feast

lend an ear

thanks to stephanie, i can't stop listening to lucy michelle and the velvet lapelles.  nothing like a girl and a ukulele...

your fortune as told by the stars

Today's Times reports a surge in fretful visitors to fortune tellers since the Dow bust.
Perhaps it's time to twist my locks up in a scarf, rouge my lips, & dangle hoops from my ears...

You are fearless & courageous.

You are continually borrowing trouble.

You are kind & generous.

You are cunning & tricky.

Your happiness & prosperity depends solely upon yourself.

John Waddell. He's still dead.

After riding the tumultuous waves of Wall St again this week, I poked around graveyard at Trinity Church for a little perspective.

Conferences

on my block

Obama

hope change progress

What lies beneath the city streets...

I heart NY

he held this pose for me

Wind Lets Loose the Leaves

Seltzer Man

PRESIDENT-ELECT OBAMA! ! !

VOTE

Yes We Can

Voting with Gregory

The perspective of a 5 year old boy

Sunday Bluegrass Brunch @ Superfine

Carroll Gardens Halloween

Nudibranch dreams

Doug says last night he "dreamt we were running through town and there was a nudibranch in every puddle."

"Nudibranchia" from Ernst Haeckel's Artforms of Nature, 1904.

Sunday bright

Wish I'd had the courage to shoot this woman from the front.  She had on a marvelous hat, purple stockings, rouged cheeks, pursed ruby lips, and was reading Orwell's 1984.

Powell endorses Obama

Happy Birthday Stella

A birthday party tonight.  A friend of Maeve's.  The kids carved pumpkins.  Had cupcakes.  Looked through a cabinet of curiosities.  I learned about the jaw harp and heard it played.  And I spotted this friendly Eastern European fellow.

Renshi

I just killed an ant on my desk.  Poor ant.  He fell to my poem frustration.  I'm in a "renshi" poem cycle that goes from person to person (in a small group) and from the previous person's poem you must take their last line and use it as your title.  I have little to show for my efforts (this is my second round) and now I've killed an ant walking innocently and ant-like across my desk because I could.

Muses, hear that?  Ant sacrifice.

But if there were such passageways...

You could take them

and would

Here to the boathouse, and to the glassy lake--

its quiet necklace of twilight

Your ear to the vibrating catbird throat

robed in song and changing

There are.  There are.  This is heaven on earth and

you are your own lonely animal, soft and failing,

locked in the magnificent twinkling cuffs

of your passing sparkle.

Hope-hope-hoping

Here is the latest polling data from fivethirtyeight(dot)com.

Keeping hope alive.

Mary with a dagger...

Maybe she saw the Palin debate?

Debate tonight

Let's win this thing!  

steve's in town

oh marxwriter, what will we write?

a vintage toy typewriter i picked up

Eye Spy...

An eye in a locket.  Around your neck.  In your pocket.

A few poems of mine in LIT

Some of Doug's work

Esopus 10 Spring 2008

Esopus 10 has brought some of Doug's work to light...

http://www.esopusmag.com/current.php?Id=3008

another NYICFF favorite

Wooden Pirate with a Flesh Leg

This is one of our favorite shorts from the NY International Children's Film Festival....  More great shorts for kids can be seen at http://gkids.tv/watchOnline.cfm

Eye Spy...

We went to the Murakami exhibit at the Brooklyn Museum today. It was interesting, if mildly pornographic in that oddly cute Japanese style. The kids enjoyed the smiling flowers and skulls with flower eyes. Lunch afterward at Le Gamin with some friends and ate outdoors beneath an ominous thundercloud that has yet to release its rain on us. The rest of the day is to be spent cleaning winter's sticks and waste from our back garden and potting pansies and chives and other bright things.

blooms opening

but more rain in the forecast!  no poems today.  just the underdog song over and over with a cool little boy.  his new name is Snugglelove Jumpyhigh (with apologies to Russell Hoban and his character Auntie Bundlejoy Cosysweet).  bon weekend.

taking care of the tykes...

photo credit; amy mcnamara

Can't write? Bake.

English Toffee Cookies

1 c butter, softened
3/4 c sugar
3/4 c brown sugar
3 large egg yolks, lightly beaten
1 T vanilla
2 ½ c all purpose flour, sifted
½ t salt
1 t baking soda
½ t cream of tartar
1 package Heath Toffee pieces

Preheat oven to 350°F.

Cream butter and sugars until fluffy. Add egg yolks and vanilla.

Combine flour, salt, baking soda, and cream of tartar and add to batter in 4 parts, mixing well after each addition.

Stir in toffee pieces.

Form dough into walnut-sized balls and place on parchment lined cookie sheets about 2 inches apart. Bake for approximately 11 minutes. Cookies will be chewy if not over-baked.

another april poem

when one thing is lost


the blue hyacinths
on the desk a marching band

clatter and clash
of cymbal & brass

insist I unclench my jaw
& follow another sense,

one less likely
to lead to the collapsing

chambers of my heart
& its petty pantry

stocked with sighs
and sorrows

dinner

Cream of Broccoli Soup for Maeve

¼ c butter
5-6 large shallots, sliced
2 or 3 cloves garlic, minced
1 or 2 t thyme
4 c chicken broth (add more if needed)
1 ½ lb broccoli florets, and some stem
¼ c cream or half and half
handfull flour

In a large saucepan, heat butter until melted. Add shallots and garlic and cook over low heat until softened, about 5 minutes. Add thyme and cook until fragrant.

Stir in handfull flour until incorporated. Add chicken broth and broccoli. Season with salt and petter. Bring to a boil; reduce heat. Simmer until broccoli is tender, 5-10 minutes.

Puree soup. Add more butter to taste and cream. Serve immediately.

Serves 4-6

today's poem

I am an object always in transition


and I am told
I learn everything the hard way

near the harbor a magestic ship thrust its bow
skyward then sank

a fare-thee-well to the coming
might-have-beens

the queen had given it her name
and it was china laden

and rich in other promise-
making vessels

I don’t heed rules
often enough, I guess

I make all kinds of mistakes
in my mind

I fell in love
and try to stay there

a harbor seal suns lazy
where the ship was


4/4/08

my computer died. it was very sad.

But my week without it was a chance to explore the web on Doug's laptop and think about how I might more easily post pictures for you guys to see. Also, Kath challenged me to write a poem a day for April, no matter how bad they were, just to get me working again. So far it's a poem every other day and I may post them here, just to have a place to put them until my laptop is returned to me.

The title of this blog covers four things I hold in high regard.