The Little Review (littlereview) wrote,
The Little Review

Poem for Sunday

By A.R. Ammons

I've pressed so
far away from
my desire that

if you asked
me what I
want I would,

accepting the harmonious
completion of the
drift, say annihilation,



The Washington Post online is quite late getting Poet's Choice (and, indeed, the entire Book World section) uploaded this week, and I'm too lazy to type in the whole thing, so shall quote it tomorrow.

Feel much better after sleeping late -- I love weekends. After older son got home from volunteering at Hebrew school, we went to Meadowside Nature Center -- the one with the indoor cave and the local animals, including a new screech owl rescued after a car accident -- and hiked the quite muddy long trail around the ruins of Muncaster Mill. It was a gorgeous day, a little cooler than yesterday. I'm definitely not 100% because I then promptly took a nap, but my dermatologist called to tell me that the biopsy came back already and the growth was only mildly abnormal, so now other than itchy stitches and just not feeling normal, I feel much better. The thing appeared so quickly that it made me really nervous. And of course I promptly forgot sunblock today! Am hoping it's still close enough to winter that it won't matter. It was too overcast to see the lunar eclipse, at least, which we were bummed about.

What's left of the Muncaster Mill site's foundations.

The county has made an effort to shore up the remains of the mill, which operated until the 1920s.

The ruins are visible in the woods from Muncaster Mill Road, particularly at this time of year when the trees have no leaves.

The road goes right past the mill and over Rock Creek toward Gaithersburg.

I blame perkypaduan (and George) for the fact that my cats now have a page on Catster. Rosie has been sneezing quite a bit the past two days, so I have made her and Cinnamon both vet appointments for Monday to make sure nothing is up with their little cat noses. Rosie's appetite, at least, seems unaffected, as well as her sense of smell: apaulled made crab imperial for dinner and we heard quite a bit of complaining from under the table that we did not share with her.

Watched the first episode of the BBC's Robin Hood, which I liked in some ways and was meh about in others -- thought the villains were as ridiculously over-the-top as in the Costner movie (sheriff amusing but not nearly as hot as Alan Rickman), and didn't think Robin Hood was vastly better acted even though his accent was an improvement (sounded more Yorkshire to me than Nottingham but that may have to do with the era in which it's supposed to be set). Then we watched The Beatles' Biggest Secrets, which was exactly as terrible as you'd expect...the use of a rotten apple to represent the group falling apart after Brian Epstein's death was probably the low point from a production value, though really all the stories about their sex lives were pretty embarrassing. Ah well, our PBS station is showing the Loreena McKennitt concert on Monday after Heroes and that's the one music show I really want to watch.

Site owner keeps asking why I haven't finished writing up Harve Bennett while piling other stuff on me (after having scooped me on the one news article all year that means anything, the Trek movie getting greenlit). Since I have felt like crap I have finished precisely nothing, and next week I have my mother's 65th birthday events.

  • Poem for Friday and Cabin John Spring

    A Lady red -- amid the Hill By Emily Dickinson A Lady red -- amid the Hill Her annual secret keeps! A Lady white, within the Field In placid…

  • Poem for Thursday and Carderock Deer

    Killdeer By Nick Flynn You know how it pretends to have a broken wing to lure predators away from its nest, how it staggers just out of reach .…

  • Poem for Wednesday and Canal Turtles

    The Turtle Shrine Near Chittagong By Naomi Shihab Nye Humps of shell emerge from dark water. Believers toss hunks of bread, hoping the fat…

  • Post a new comment


    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your IP address will be recorded