The Little Review (littlereview) wrote,
The Little Review
littlereview

Poem for Thursday


Newfane
By D. Nurkse


1.

How we loved to create a world.

Out of gray we made the pin-oak leaves
with their saw teeth and odd waxy sheen,
dry and matte to the touch, out of granite
we made the marriage house, and always
we added a flaw that we called fire
or time or the stranger.

2.

A drop of water on the lip of a jug,
trembling, trying to hold on
for another second to the idea of sphericity—
that was us, our nakedness.

3.

We worked to thwart our happiness
because it was so unexpected;
suffering tasted like our mouths.

4.

We had a flagstone path, a pond, four birches,
a dog racing in tight circles, helpless
against the dream of fresh snow.

In the future, that red Schwinn with training wheels
must find a way to pedal itself.

5.
World like a child who learned to walk
beyond our outstretched hands.

--------

Another poem from this week's New Yorker.

Other than stamps, I have the Bar Mitzvah invitations all ready to go! perkypaduan came over while I was putting things together and we watched the last two Doctor Who specials...I wasn't sure "Planet of the Dead" would hold up so well in proximity to "The Next Doctor," but I have to admit that it really does, not in terms of drama or production value so much as the radical concept that a woman can be completely awesome while at the same time being selfish, thrill-seeking, bossy, hungry for glory and quite independent...and she doesn't deserve to be punished for it any more than the Doctor does, because the Doctor is all those things too. (And you can't throw me out of the fandom because I'm not actually IN the fandom so nyah.) We also ate lunch and entertained the cats, so that was a very delightful couple of hours.

I did a lot of running around this afternoon...Adam had Bar Mitzvah tutoring at the home of the tutor since the school was closed for Passover, though his tutor was fielding phone calls and getting her house painted so it was a bit of a chaotic session, then we picked up Daniel in the rain from the bus stop and I tried to get a laundry in but kept getting interrupted by other chores, and frankly I have no idea where the evening went...we rewatched last night's Daily Show and Colbert Report because we figured the kids had to see the Somali pirate attack reenacted by John Oliver and Sunita Williams breaking the news to Stephen Colbert that he wasn't getting a space bathroom named after him, then an early Xena episode, all while working on various projects. And now I am exhausted without having accomplished half of what I wanted to do.


Not Mount Vernon tonight but Winterthur, where Henry Francis du Pont collected Americana relating to George Washington and other founders of the United States. Here in the dining room, for instance, is Gilbert Stuart's painting of Washington...


...and Benjamin West's unfinished painting American Commissioners of the Preliminary Peace Negotiations with Great Britain.


These tankards were made by Paul Revere and his father, also a silversmith.


This mirror belonged to Martha Washington.


In the same room, a painting (I think by Edward Savage) of George and Martha and her grandchildren.


The Winterthur collection also includes this collection of illustrations of important early U.S. naval battles.


Du Pont collected the largest group of items from George Washington's most famous set of china -- produced in Canton in 1784, celebrating Washington as the first President of the Society of Cincinnati. (Mount Vernon sells replicas that cost over a hundred dollars an item.)


And here is a Washington commemorative clock flanked by photos of Henry Francis du Pont and his sister in their youth.
</center>

Hope everyone got their taxes mailed!
Subscribe

  • Poem for Wednesday and Great Falls Cardinals

    The Bird Her Punctual Music Brings By Emily Dickinson The Bird her punctual music brings And lays it in its place— Its place is in the Human…

  • Poem for Tuesday and Carderock

    A wounded Deer – leaps highest – By Emily Dickinson A wounded Deer – leaps highest – I've heard the Hunter tell – 'Tis but the ecstasy of death…

  • Poem for Monday and Great Falls Sunday

    The Daisy Follows Soft The Sun By Emily Dickinson The Daisy follows soft the Sun— And when his golden walk is done— Sits shyly at his feet—…

  • Post a new comment

    Error

    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your IP address will be recorded 

  • 0 comments