September 28th, 2003

little review

Poem for Sunday

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That glorious poem discovered via Poet's Choice in the Sunday Washington Post book world, by a poet Edward Hirsch describes as "an enigmatic and mystical nature poet of great rectitude and seriousness [who] believed with W. B. Yeats, her second master in poetry, that 'poetry and religion are the same thing.'" I need to get one of her collections ASAP.

Spent nearly all day yesterday doing family Rosh Hashanah activities, at synagogue, then at family dinner; today my husband's parents are coming and we may all (both families) go to Great Falls to see the river near flood crest. Also have to do the weekly review round-up which is annoyingly time-consuming as I have to read a pile of Enterprise reviews and wonder why I didn't think of certain things and how some people can bother to care about other things.

Meanwhile, I can get nothing else accomplished -- not even proper atonement for my sins of the past year...as if -- because Faramir has moved into my head and is trying to tell me a long, porny alternative post-LOTR epic whose schmoop factor is excessive even by my standards. And he won't shut up. I blame ashinae and Lucius Malfoy for this, because apparently my brain requires some possibility of happily-ever-after at all times. And when I ask The Boromir Who Lives In My Head how he feels about this, he's all corny and happy about it. *shakes head*