The Little Review (littlereview) wrote,
The Little Review

Poem for Friday

By Sylvia Plath

Overnight, very
Whitely, discreetly,
Very quietly

Our toes, our noses
Take hold on the loam,
Acquire the air.

Nobody sees us,
Stops us, betrays us;
The small grains make room.

Soft fists insist on
Heaving the needles,
The leafy bedding,

Even the paving.
Our hammers, our rams,
Earless and eyeless,

Perfectly voiceless,
Widen the crannies,
Shoulder through holes. We

Diet on water,
On crumbs of shadow,
Bland-mannered, asking

Little or nothing.
So many of us!
So many of us!

We are shelves, we are
Tables, we are meek,
We are edible,

Nudgers and shovers
In spite of ourselves.
Our kind multiplies:

We shall by morning
Inherit the earth.
Our foot's in the door.


Not a lot to report. Had lots of Star Trek today: wrote up an interesting interview with Alexander Siddig, assembled news bullets and realized there was enough Shatner news for an entire article (I figured that if we covered his hospitalization we should cover his recovery, and, you know, any excuse to talk again about the scene where he and Spader were in bed together on Boston Legal), and spent the last three hours watching and writing up "Space Seed" which is an intimidating episode to review because even total non-Trekkies are aware of it because of The Wrath of Khan. Once again I am struck by how VERY VERY good the original series was; episodes of later Trek series that I have enjoyed, and of pretty much every other SF show I have ever watched, owe so much to Star Trek. I enjoyed the Augments episodes of Enterprise but they really didn't bring up any ideas over the course of three episodes that "Space Seed" didn't touch upon. And it makes me want to reread Nancy Kress' Beggars In Spain which is also concerned with what genetic enhancements do both to those who have them and to those who don't.

Otherwise, we all watched Smallville where we found Aquaman a little one-dimensional and Lex nearly unbearable, but at least there were no agonizing Clark/Lana scenes...again I must ask, in a town with Chloe and Lois, how can Clark still want Lana? He's got that childhood fantasy fulfilled, now let's move on! I understand his obsession with Lex a lot better no matter how it gets twisted. And, okay, my professor fetish is making James Marsters attractive to me in a way he never was before -- finally I get to see him looking his age, without the British accent, and now I get what people see in him! It is just as well that we watched all this sci-fi, because Maryland managed to lose miserably to Virginia Tech, 28-9, and I am sure apaulled would have put on the whole painful thing had he not been outvoted by the rest of us. I appreciate so much the fact that my sons are only middling sports fans, though I think both my husband and their grandfathers are somewhat disappointed that when we talk about going to the Delaware Museum of Natural History football exhibit, my younger son in particular rolls his eyes.

A witch flies over a henhouse at Homestead Farms during pumpkin-picking season. You can see the big turkey in the enclosure to her right.

Lovebirds -- err, love ducks -- rest under a tree even though the shade has moved.

Lightning and Shadow, the two baby goats, compete to be king of the hill.

Remember the wooden horse that the artist in my neighborhood had in the yard? Now we know what it was for!

Like the Baltimore crabs, the Hanover cows and the Rehoboth dolphins...

...there are Potomac horses!

And another meme:

Your Monster Profile

Merciless Doctor
You Feast On: Lasanga
You Lurk Around In: The Hearts of Men
You Especially Like to Torment: Cops


Kids have no school tomorrow, so we are taking my son and his friends miniature golfing (if the weather is good) or bowling (if the weather is bad)! It's his belated birthday party!

  • Greetings from the Canal

    It rained early in the morning on Friday and again in the afternoon -- the first thunderstorm of the season, which displeased the kittens so much…

  • Poem for Friday and Canal Thursday

    Letter Beginning with Two Lines by Czesław Miłosz By Matthew Olzmann You whom I could not save, Listen to me. Can we agree Kevlar backpacks…

  • Poem for Thursday and McCrillis Flowers

    A Violin at Dusk By Lizette Woodworth Reese Stumble to silence, all you uneasy things, That pack the day with bluster and with fret. For here…

  • Post a new comment


    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your IP address will be recorded