Cranes
Lyrical afterthoughts, these cranes
zephyr-cast across
miles. Paper
creatures,
sun-
caught
zephyr-cast across
river-moods,
shades of
blue
dream
miles. Paper
weathered
with
time,
creatures
sun-
caught–
gone.
I thought I’d try this form again using some words from Kerfe’s Random words. As soon as I saw “paper creatures,” I imagined a flock of paper cranes.
Perspectives
“Straight up through the sky above this road right now,
The galaxies of the Cygnus A cluster
Are colliding with each other in a massive swarm
Of interpenetrating and exploding catastrophes.”
1.
Hoaxes dropped like scat—
watch where you walk—
rabid creatures lurk waiting to infect
the gullible. They wear chips on their shoulders,
bray like donkeys, wait to crush all non-believers.
2.
Toothsome treats
savor them, as if there will be no more
fruit brought from away, cooked and sweetened,
no essence of grapes harvested and fermented.
Then and now intersect. For a moment, it’s everything.
3.
Dirt is what a worm knows—
the feel, the taste, the way wet and dry particles
cling differently–soil, mud, earth—it’s the world.
The robin is a giant who knows sky, trees, ground,
catches the worm, swallows it.
4.
Geese squabble like Jets and Sharks
Turkeys look surprised to cross the road
Is it truly spring because I heard a mockingbird sing?
Crows know the answers
to the questions we never ask.
5.
Here is magic, river-caught sparkle,
blue-sky where branches reach up to catch bird-beats
and wing-brushes—here,
where feathered clouds sweep away haze,
and you and perfect daffodils raises your faces to the light.
I used some of Kerfe’s random words for this cadralor.I should mention, that hopefully if you click on the photos in this post, you’ll see captions.
Spring is definitely on the way, despite this past week’s cooler temperatures. I really did hear a mockingbird putting on a concert a few days ago. I’ve seen some around, but this was the first medley-of-my-greatest-hits concert I’ve heard since last summer.
Oh—just now—birds singing pre-dawn, even as the heat clicking on.
We’re getting rain today, and possible snow tomorrow, though I think that will probably be north or west of us.
We walked at Tall Pines yesterday.
Merril’s Movie/Book Club
We watched the new Luther movie, but really you shouldn’t. (You’re welcome.) So many good actors wasted in a movie that’s mediocre at best. Some movies you like more when you think about them later, not this one.
We also watched Women Talking, which both of us thought was excellent. But you know, it was women talking, so if you only watch action films, it’s not for you. A brilliant ensemble cast with deft direction by Sarah Polley. Although the story is loosely based on events that occurred in an extremist Mennonite colony in Bolivia, in the movie, the place and religion are never named. This gives it a timeless feel—these could be women almost anywhere in any time. The violence is never shown, only some blood, a black eye, and a pregnancy. Women Talking was free on Amazon Prime this past weekend.
I didn’t watch the Oscars, but I was pleased that Everything Everywhere All at Once won best picture, and Michelle Yeoh, best actress. I will watch this one again—and it is sort of an action film, but so much more.
Books: I finished the most recent Louise Penny book, A World of Curiosities. I haven’t read all her books, but this one was on the shelf at the library, so I picked it up. The librarian told me that she didn’t care for this one in the series, which she thought was all over the place. The beginning does jump back in forth in time, but that doesn’t bother me. Penny uses a real-life event that took place in Canada, and one that she covered as a young journalist to argue for anti-gun measures and discuss systemic misogyny. The mistaken identity plot device seems a bit thin here. It’s probably not her best, but I still enjoyed it. It’s the humanity of Gamache and his friends that comes through to me once again.
One last thing. I’m participating in a launch of Our Own Coordinates this Friday (3 PM my time). I’ll be reading my poem, “Sylvia.” You can get a free ticket here.
“That though the heart is breaking, happiness can exist in a moment, also. And because the moment in which we live is all the time there really is, we can keep going.”
― Zora Neale Hurston. (2018). Barracoon: The Story of the Last “Black Cargo”.
Descending, Ascending
Each winter she descends,
her mouth red-stained, she rises in spring
like sun and moon
reborn
in ancient rhythms
of ancient songs
of stellar light
unnoticed
in unwritten time,
migrations of enlightenment–
the sparkle of sun-silver on outstretched wings,
flapped
the shadows shift. You see a peacock array.
Does the clock ever end? Around and around,
you look for a chivalrous nerve in space
determined
to find connections in the liminal.
Mother to child and on. Never forget
you say. Not black-and-white. Prisms. The daffodils rise,
again.
I used some of Kerfe’s Random Words. So. . .this was a strange week.
On, Tuesday, we went to William Heritage Winery in Mullica Hill, NJ for a February/Valentine wine and chocolate pairing, and it was lovely. Despite the woman at a nearby table holding her companions–and us–captive with her non-stop monologues. We learned she had had COVID and worked in the poker room. There had been some rain (and a tornado hit north of us), but when we got there, the sun was shining.
Then later in the week, I spent some time in the ER, entering Thursday morning and leaving Friday afternoon. It turned out to be a “better safe than sorry” situation with observation and tons of tests done “out of an abundance of caution.” I feel fine now, but you will understand why I’m behind on everything. I didn’t feel great when I got home on Friday because I hadn’t eaten since Wednesday at dinner. But I ate and rested, and we had a family Zoom shabbat, and it was wonderful to see my children. While in the ER, I finished the book club book I was reading, Lessons in Chemistry (though I missed the meeting), and then I re-read the entire book of Anne of Green Gables and started Anne of Avonlea. I remembered I had them on my Kindle.
On Saturday morning, I got a poetry acceptance. So, things seem to be looking up!
Saturday night we watched “Descendant,” an excellent documentary film on Netflix. It’s about the descendants of the people who were enslaved and brought to the US from Africa in 1860 aboard the ship Clotilda. The slave trade had been abolished in 1807, though slavery was not. I knew about the ship Clotilda, but not so much about the community of the descendants of the people captured and brought to Alabama. It’s a wonderful, moving documentary that also explores environmental and economic injustice, and includes audio of Zora Neale Hurston, excerpts of her book, Barracoon, and film footage that she shot from her interviews in the 1920s! I also started thinking about the word “descendant,” climbing down from an ancestor. Of course, if you go back far enough—despite what the White supremacists believe—we’re all related. See: this episode of Finding Your Roots or this interview with Henry Louis Gates
The Fathomable Unknown
Pondering,
you recollect the past,
its sweat-stained shirts
and hulking monoliths–
describe the bells
so that we hear
the tintinnabulation,
the bell-swell, clapper-clang,
ding-dong, soul-singing
ring across the hills and plains
across the years—construe
the meaning behind it all,
Writer, make a city rise and fall.
Create a giant, defiant but
literate, stormy as a cloud–
wonder aloud,
grapple for answers
based in knowledge—
a girl, a famine, misogyny, religion—
the thousand indecisions,
the visions —
life and death
and forgotten facts
buried in earth and under snow,
but know
like the snowbells, they rise and ring,
and like the robins they sing
with bright bill chirps as
their wings catch the light,
a song takes flight
and a tale rises from the dust,
because it must,
a wonder of sorrow, regret,
love, or glory–
Once upon a time. . .imagine. You tell the story.
Once again, I used some of Jane’s Random Words. (Thank you!) I’m still thinking about truth, fiction (see last week’s musings), and the half-truths and flat-out political/cultural lies of our current time (see, the Republican party.)
We watched the movie, The Wonder based on the novel by Emma Donoghue, who also worked on the screenplay. I had read the book, but I didn’t remember all the details. The story is inspired by true accounts of fasting girls, particularly a girl in Wales. For her story based on facts—and not—Donoghue moved the location to Ireland after the famine. I liked both the book and the movie. Florence Pugh is wonderful as the English nurse sent to watch the girl. I’ve read several of Donoghue’s books, and though Room is her most famous, several others are based on historical events and set in past centuries. I found the story of her most recent book Haven, fascinating, though I disliked all the characters. I find it difficult to feel sympathy for religious fanatics and misogynists in any era.
Both of my children had birthdays this past week. We saw one and wished the other happy birthday by phone—then ate some cake.
There was a big football game last night. I don’t follow sports at all. I made my husband some goodies and sat with him for the first half hour. Lots of excitement in my area about the Eagles, but unfortunately, they lost. My husband said it was a good game though.
I’m hosting Prosery on dVerse today, so I’ll be back!
Reverie
There are moments
when time seems to curve,
or is it the light of stars
traveling beyond death?
We watch the rippling reflections
for illumination—to understand the fuzzy in-between
of dream and waking,
the puzzle of
why bees sleep,
and why flowers exist—and the splendid wonder
that they do—
why we question, but never learn,
why we forget to question,
why we forget
how arguments and competition
turn to wars.
Why we think it’s either science or art–
the truth of beauty,
all ye need to know
despite everything—
is ephemeral and lasting,
like spots on a tablecloth, a reminder of what was,
a sign of what may come, the possibility of peace or dystopia
a curve in time, an arc like a rainbow
shimmering in the distance,
hope
with wings outstretched,
gliding,
returning home, a loop in space,
a curve in time.
I used some of Jane’s Random Words.
We caught up on some movies this past week. Pre-pandemic, we would have seen them all in the theater months ago, but we ended up streaming them, which I know is not the same as a big-screen experience.
I wanted to watch Argentina, 1985, but I couldn’t get the subtitles to work properly, and I do not enjoy watching dubbed movies. I’ve never had this problem before.
The Banshees of Inisherin
Tár
Armageddon Time
I liked all of them very much, and they are all excellent movies, but none of them were for me, oh my god, wow! {No Cold War, Dale.] Cate Blanchett is amazing, however, in Tár, which I liked much more after thinking about it. I read that the role was written for her. I think this year I may go for the favorite, “Everything, Everywhere All at Once.” I know that seems weird for me, but it really was a Merril movie.
I read Properties of Thirst by Marianne Wiggins. I loved this book. I found it while looking over the new books at the library. I haven’t read anything else by this author who has won several prizes and was a Pulitzer Prize nominee. She suffered a massive stroke while writing this book, but she recovered enough so that her daughter could help her finish the manuscript. I did have to read several pages to get into it. It is written from different characters’ perspectives with long sections of their thoughts and memories. The book is divided into sections, with each labeled as a different “property of thirst.”
Cold, rainy day comfort food
Home-made pizza for a movie night
A Week in January
Some days begin grey and turn greyer,
there are mouse droppings in your pantry,
the rodents have partied while your cat sleeps,
the rain like a purple sweater, soft,
and you want to sleep, too.
Another day, the sun tries
to open its eyes,
as the wind whispers, try again—
and flaps rainbow wings. Look.
Another day, in this endless week,
the sky is the blue of cornflowers and hyacinths,
the river sparkles,
shadows dance and play
as a squirrel pipes a melody–
It’s all connected, the trees’
murmuring roots and the river’s answer,
the geese that rise
and the wind that sighs,
bang the drum, cross the bridge,
awaken and inform—
as the sun bestows majesty
ringing puddles in gold
take ideas from cloistered recesses–
It’s a heartbreaking spell
it’s a wishing well
it’s the dock at goodbye
and those left, asking why,
and you can’t explain,
but it comes again—
fear, regret—love,
beauty,
a day in January. A week.
I used some of the random words I generated. It’s been another strange week within years full of strangeness. Lots of grey rainy days with a few patches of blue. No ice or snow—that may come later this week. The GOP is still awful, and I pity anyone trying to teach or learn in Florida. Our children and their spouses—are sick. Older child and their wife have COVID. We have not seen any of them recently, but parents worry. Our refrigerator was terminally ill, and we got a new one last week. Then a couple of days ago, I heard some rustling, and we discovered mouse droppings in a large cabinet under the kitchen counter. A lot. It was a major cleanup. I think perhaps the bird feeder attached to the kitchen window may have lured them with its scattered seeds on the ground. So, though I’ve been enjoying seeing the variety of birds there, I think we should not fill this feeder again.
We’ve caught up on British mysteries this week, sort of comfort shows, not bleak mysteries.
Annika, which we started in October, so re-watched the first episode again and finished the series. My husband was put off by Nicola Walker’s breaking the fourth wall when he first saw it. But this time, we both enjoyed the show. Nicola Walker can do anything. I had listened to the original radio/podcast version of the show, too, which is also voiced by Walker.
Miss Scarlett and the Duke (Season 3)—it’s a light-weight mystery series, but fun, with good acting. I’m surprised how caught up my husband got in it.
We started the latest season of All Creatures Great and Small. It’s another “comfort series,” but it’s hard not to love it. It’s based on the books about a rural veterinarian in Yorkshire in the1930s. The books are also good, and so was the series done several decades ago.
Then we started something totally different, The Devil’s Hour (on Amazon). It’s about a woman who wakes every single day at 3:33 A.M. after a strange dream. This show should come with lots of trigger warnings. It’s unsettling, but we were both intrigued and want to see what happens. We have eclectic tastes. 😏
Warm and colorful food for cold, grey days.
Since Jane hasn’t posted any yet, I’ll put up some random words to play with. What’s up with saponify? It was in her words last week, too.
Aubade, Serenade
1.
A brush with green,
Earth-spirits, forest soul beckons
absorb the magic, it vanishes quickly
as orange sherbet sky melts
into the blue expanse
2.
Lies bait the hook
they swallow eagerly
as they swim to shore,
emerging with myopic eyes
fins turned to fists, grasping at shadows.
3.
Statement of the day,
or afterthought?
Dust off your father’s memory,
what if you saw your parents as children?
Love rekindled. Turn the page, again.
4.
Dreams of motors and motion–
helicopters, airplanes, buses, trains.
Something insidious you fear, but wait
there’s a twist–a cat purrs in your ear,
a snore from the pillow beside you.
5.
Light transported, prismed colors soar
and sing, celestial harmonies,
secrets we’re born knowing, but forget
even stars die,
I breathe their sparkle, hear their song.
I generated another set of words, different from Jane’s set yesterday, and used them to write a cadralor.
After heat, storms, and humidity, this weekend we got some cool, dry, sunny weather. The January 6 Committee Hearings continue, and their revelations are even more awful than I thought they would be. However, nature has brought magic in the form of deer, eagles, and some beautiful days. We went to Auburn Road Winery for a pre-Father’s Day celebration. I baked my husband his favorite cookies for Father’s Day and gave him a pillow to replace one I ruined.
Merril’s Movie, Theater, TV Club:
We watched Petite Maman, a new movie by French director Céline Sciamma. (Her highly acclaimed Portrait of a Lady on Fire has been in my queue for ages, so I will need to watch it soon.) There’s not much of a story, but it’s a sweet, tender film—just what I needed to see. The title is a clue. I really liked it.
We saw another strange version of The Cherry Orchard, this one called The Orchard. We saw the virtual version. I really loved Mikhail Baryshnikov as Chekhov and Firs. Madame Ranevskaya was also excellent. I liked the virtual opening and closing, and the acting was good, but if I didn’t know the story, I probably would have been lost. Was the robotic arm/camera symbolic? Were there allusions to the current invasion of Ukraine? Perhaps. Here’s one review.
We finished the current episodes of Stranger Things (two more episodes drop on July 1). We both have enjoyed this new season. We started the latest Star Trek, Star Trek: Strange New Worlds. It’s a prequel to the original Star Trek, and it follows Capt. Pike and his crew, including intern Uhura.
I’m posting the Word list instead of Jane today if anyone wants to join in. I probably won’t post a poem from this set until tomorrow.
Yesterday and today: Merril's historical musings 