The Little Review (littlereview) wrote,
The Little Review

Poem for Tuesday, Catching Fire, Piglets

Trees in the Garden
By D.H. Lawrence

Ah in the thunder air
how still the trees are!

And the lime-tree, lovely and tall, every leaf silent
hardly looses even a last breath of perfume.

And the ghostly, creamy coloured little tree of leaves
white, ivory white among the rambling greens
how evanescent, variegated elder, she hesitates on the green grass
as if, in another moment, she would disappear
with all her grace of foam!

And the larch that is only a column, it goes up too tall to see:
and the balsam-pines that are blue with the grey-blue blueness of
      things from the sea,
and the young copper beech, its leaves red-rosy at the ends
how still they are together, they stand so still
in the thunder air, all strangers to one another
as the green grass glows upwards, strangers in the silent garden.



It was a ridiculously warm, beautiful Monday that I mostly wasted indoors doing laundry and reading the second half of Catching Fire and the first half of Mockingjay. I am loving them so much that I am not sure I will ever talk about them here. It is hard enough to fight the urge to analyze and compare them to various other dystopias on which I've done academic work, like Octavia Butler's "The Evening and the Morning and the Night." I can't bear the thought of opening them up to fannish wankery -- I'm assuming there's a Team Peeta and a Team Gale, and without even knowing yet what happens in canon, let alone who will play them in the inevitable film franchise, I don't want to read the same sort of what-do-women-want theories that plagued the Harry-Hermione-Ron and Edward-Bella-Jacob relationships, let alone the faux feminist analysis of why Katniss just isn't good enough. I did take a walk in the woods eventually because with temperatures in the 80s, I just could not resist. There are no mockingjays, but there's a red-headed woodpecker who's been hanging out nearby.

Paul made Swedish meatballs and rye bread for dinner because he was in the mood for them. We watched what I believe is the season finale (rather than the series finale, though NBC hasn't announced a decision) of Harry's Law, which had lots of silliness as usual and two romances the show hasn't made me care about -- I feel like the writers feel obligated to have a few young people having sex so they can make the case that they're appealing to a younger demographic, while their interest (and mine) is obviously with the 50+ crowd -- but it was all forgiven when Paul McCrane, who plays a crazy D.A. on the show (and whom I once met at a Kennedy Center rooftop party while he was in The Iceman Cometh there with Jason Robards) sang one of his songs from Fame for no good reason at a party on the show, after which, in the best line of the night, someone asked Kathy Bates whether she got lucky with her date, and she said extremely lucky -- he went home with someone else. Then we watched the unfortunately predictable end to the UConn-Butler game. Here are some more piggies from Frying Pan Farm Park:


  • Poem for Wednesday and La Push

    Sixteenth Anniversary By Tess Gallagher for Raymond Carver and for Chris Morgenroth, Quileute Nation August 2, 2004 You died early and in…

  • Poem for Tuesday and Sol Duc Falls

    Waterfall By Lauris Dorothy Edmond I do not ask for youth, nor for delay in the rising of time's irreversible river that takes the jewelled arc…

  • Poem for Monday and La Push Tidepools

    Once By The Pacific By Robert Frost The shattered water made a misty din. Great waves looked over others coming in, And thought of doing…

  • Post a new comment


    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your IP address will be recorded