I made this for my son since his new favourite game at the park is to use his head to plow furrows in the sand. Yep, a regular chip of the ol’ block that one.
I made this for my son since his new favourite game at the park is to use his head to plow furrows in the sand. Yep, a regular chip of the ol’ block that one.
Hey DanO, in my ongoing quest to enthuse in you a greater appreciation of poetry, here is one from Levertov via a F+T link. Levertov lived in Seattle the last few years of her life and I saw her read about a year before she died. I was studying poetry at the UW then and my professor was a friend of Levertov.
Denise Levertov, “Suspended.”
I had grasped God’s garment in the void
But my hand slipped
On the rich silk of it.
The ‘everlasting arms’ my sister loved to remember
Must have upheld my leaden weight
From falling, even so,
For though I claw at empty air and feel
Nothing, no embrace,
I have not plummeted.
Obliged.
p.s. nothing wrong with getting down and clawing the dirt with our faces once in a while. The Muslims do it 5 times a day though I’m not sure if it has made them exceedingly more humble. Then again, when your face down in the dirt, how much farther is there to fall? A great wind still carries us DanO.