1.29.2010
1.28.2010
1.21.2010
of spring tomorrow
no matter the fall
or volume of snow to feign our minds
into a belief of the clean white slate
the geisha mask of clean white beauty
melts inevitably.
spring opens the door for winter and
careless refuse randomly strewn
yellow and brittled by enduring yesterday sun
waterlogged by snowmelt
again finds our periphery
and presents itself as new.
within the ninety-three million miles
of space between space
of real estate without speculators
an open house would be
of no use:
we are one lot of wayward property
with a heated core fighting the cooling
crust where we too are fighting
sometimes loving.
still we can boast nostalgia
and speak of that
skinnydipping swimming hole of young dad of
grandma's jarred quince jam pectin of
old growth wood tremendously patient of
that night sky and its dusting of white sand
to remind you that somewhere
our future is already our past
and somewhere snow has yet to exist.
or volume of snow to feign our minds
into a belief of the clean white slate
the geisha mask of clean white beauty
melts inevitably.
spring opens the door for winter and
careless refuse randomly strewn
yellow and brittled by enduring yesterday sun
waterlogged by snowmelt
again finds our periphery
and presents itself as new.
within the ninety-three million miles
of space between space
of real estate without speculators
an open house would be
of no use:
we are one lot of wayward property
with a heated core fighting the cooling
crust where we too are fighting
sometimes loving.
still we can boast nostalgia
and speak of that
skinnydipping swimming hole of young dad of
grandma's jarred quince jam pectin of
old growth wood tremendously patient of
that night sky and its dusting of white sand
to remind you that somewhere
our future is already our past
and somewhere snow has yet to exist.
1.17.2010
"Haiti, land of blue sea and green hills, white fishing boats on the sea, and the hidden huts of peasants in the tall mountains. People strong, midnight black. Proud women whose arms bear burdens, whose backs are very straight. Children naked as nature. Nights full of stars, throbbing with Congo drums. At the capital lovely ladies ambergold, mulatto politicians, warehouses full of champagne, banks full of money. A surge of black peasants who live on the land, and the foam of the cultured elite in Port-au-Prince who live on the peasants.
Port-au-Prince, city of squalid huts, unattractive sheds and shops near the water front, but charming villas on the slopes that rise behind the port. A presidential palace gleaming white among palm trees with the green hills for a backdrop. A park where bands play at night. An enormous open-air market.
'Ba moi cinq cob,' children beg of tourists in the street. Cinq cob means a nickel. They speak a patois French. The upper classes, educated abroad, speak the language of Paris. But I met none of the upper-class Haitians."
Port-au-Prince, city of squalid huts, unattractive sheds and shops near the water front, but charming villas on the slopes that rise behind the port. A presidential palace gleaming white among palm trees with the green hills for a backdrop. A park where bands play at night. An enormous open-air market.
'Ba moi cinq cob,' children beg of tourists in the street. Cinq cob means a nickel. They speak a patois French. The upper classes, educated abroad, speak the language of Paris. But I met none of the upper-class Haitians."
- Langston Hughes, 1956
I Wonder as I Wander
I Wonder as I Wander
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