Language Poetry / Grandma's English
by Kristin Naca
Dos / doze / those / toes shuffle through my head
when Grandma speaks, consonants blurred
from her mouth a flat tire. Unable to make out
each word I try reading lips, What / that / cat woman,
but end up lost. Her lips relaxed, bursts of sound
fretting through them. You muddy her, Grandma barks
at my father. You muddy her, she drives you grazy.
A child, I love their arguments, never fully
understanding what Grandma means when
she tells Dad, She get you rosin / rousing / rosing.
You watch. She geep driving you grazy. Though
I do get when Grandma says, / gahng /, for can,
and when she says, /gahng /, for can't.
When she curses, wants sympathy -- like,
/Gahng / it raw meet. It gives you gancer.
Look it's / rrrud /, she blusters. Her r
like she's starting a lawn mower. / Rrraw / meat,
Charlie, she argues, shows it to my father.
Marinade, he answers. And Grandma gives up.
A martyr she says, Go on, it it. Her tongue
forcing sparks from our household English.
Beauty when she grabs her chest and sighs,
I gahng go up dos stairs, Charlie. My art, my art!
_________________________________________________
A Poem by D.H. Lawrence
Whales Weep Not!
by D.H. Lawrence
They say the sea is cold, but the sea contains
the hottest blood of all, and the wildest, the most urgent.
All the whales in the wider deeps, hot are they, as they urge
on and on, and dive beneath the icebergs.
The right whales, the sperm-whales, the hammer-heads, the killers
there they blow, there they blow, hot wild white breath out of
the sea!
And they rock, and they rock, through the sensual ageless ages
on the depths of the seven seas,
and through the salt they reel with drunk delight
and in the tropics tremble they with love
and roll with massive, strong desire, like gods.
Then the great bull lies up against his bride
in the blue deep bed of the sea,
as mountain pressing on mountain, in the zest of life:
and out of the inward roaring of the inner red ocean of whale-blood
the long tip reaches strong, intense, like the maelstrom-tip, and
comes to rest
in the clasp and the soft, wild clutch of a she-whale's
fathomless body.
and over the bridges of the whale's strong phallus, linking the
wonder of whales
the burning archangels under the sea keep passing, back and
forth,
keep passing, archangels of bliss
from him to her, from her to him, great Cherubim
that wait on whales in mid-ocean, suspended in the waves of the
sea
great heaven of whales in the waters, old hierarchies.
And enormous mother whales lie dreaming suckling their whale-
tender young
and dreaming with strange whale eyes wide open in the waters of
the beginning and the end.
And bull-whales gather their women and whale-calves in a ring
when danger threatens, on the surface of the ceaseless flood
and range themselves like great fierce Seraphim facing the threat
encircling their huddled monsters of love.
And all this happens in the sea, in the salt
where God is also love, but without words:
and Aphrodite is the wife of whales
most happy, happy she!
and Venus among the fishes skips and is a she-dolphin
she is the gay, delighted porpoise sporting with love and the sea
she is the female-tunny-fish, round and happy among the males
and dense with happy blood, dark rainbow bliss in the sea.
by D.H. Lawrence
They say the sea is cold, but the sea contains
the hottest blood of all, and the wildest, the most urgent.
All the whales in the wider deeps, hot are they, as they urge
on and on, and dive beneath the icebergs.
The right whales, the sperm-whales, the hammer-heads, the killers
there they blow, there they blow, hot wild white breath out of
the sea!
And they rock, and they rock, through the sensual ageless ages
on the depths of the seven seas,
and through the salt they reel with drunk delight
and in the tropics tremble they with love
and roll with massive, strong desire, like gods.
Then the great bull lies up against his bride
in the blue deep bed of the sea,
as mountain pressing on mountain, in the zest of life:
and out of the inward roaring of the inner red ocean of whale-blood
the long tip reaches strong, intense, like the maelstrom-tip, and
comes to rest
in the clasp and the soft, wild clutch of a she-whale's
fathomless body.
and over the bridges of the whale's strong phallus, linking the
wonder of whales
the burning archangels under the sea keep passing, back and
forth,
keep passing, archangels of bliss
from him to her, from her to him, great Cherubim
that wait on whales in mid-ocean, suspended in the waves of the
sea
great heaven of whales in the waters, old hierarchies.
And enormous mother whales lie dreaming suckling their whale-
tender young
and dreaming with strange whale eyes wide open in the waters of
the beginning and the end.
And bull-whales gather their women and whale-calves in a ring
when danger threatens, on the surface of the ceaseless flood
and range themselves like great fierce Seraphim facing the threat
encircling their huddled monsters of love.
And all this happens in the sea, in the salt
where God is also love, but without words:
and Aphrodite is the wife of whales
most happy, happy she!
and Venus among the fishes skips and is a she-dolphin
she is the gay, delighted porpoise sporting with love and the sea
she is the female-tunny-fish, round and happy among the males
and dense with happy blood, dark rainbow bliss in the sea.
Mixed Feelings
While scroll through my Facebook page today I noticed an old high school friend/acquaintance had posted a picture of a CD with the caption, "Remember the D------?" I did, in fact, remember the D------. They were a band whose lead singer, C.G., was a classmate. I remember him with very mixed feelings which is why I decided not include the band name or his name.
A Poem from News of the World
News of the World
by Philip Levine
Once we were out of Barcelona the road climbed past small farm-
houses hunched down on the gray, chalky hillsides. The last person
we saw was a girl in her late teens in a black dress & gray apron
carrying a chicken upside down by the claws. She looked up &
smiled. An hour later the land opened into enormous green mead-
ows. At the frontier a cop asked in guttural Spanish almost as bad
as mine why were we going to Andorra. "Tourism," I said. Laugh-
ing, he waved us through. The rock walls of the valley were so
abrupt the town was only a single street wide. Blue plumes of
smoke ascended straight into the darkening sky. The next morning
we found what we'd come for: the perfect radio, French-made,
portable, lightweight, slightly garish with its colored dial &
chromed knobs, inexpensive. "Because of the mountains, reception
is poor," the shop owner said, so he tuned in the local Communist
station beamed to Spain. "Communist?" I said. Oh yes, they'd
come twenty-five years ago to escape the Germans, & they'd stayed.
"Back then," he said, "we were all reds." "And now?" I said. Now
he could sell me anything I wanted. "Anything?" He nodded. A
tall graying man, his face carved down to its essentials. "A Cadil-
lac?" I said. Yes, of course, he could get on the phone & have it out
front--he checked his pocket watch--by four in the afternoon.
"An American film star?" One hand on his unshaved cheek, he
gazed upward at the dark beamed ceiling. "That could take a week."
by Philip Levine
Once we were out of Barcelona the road climbed past small farm-
houses hunched down on the gray, chalky hillsides. The last person
we saw was a girl in her late teens in a black dress & gray apron
carrying a chicken upside down by the claws. She looked up &
smiled. An hour later the land opened into enormous green mead-
ows. At the frontier a cop asked in guttural Spanish almost as bad
as mine why were we going to Andorra. "Tourism," I said. Laugh-
ing, he waved us through. The rock walls of the valley were so
abrupt the town was only a single street wide. Blue plumes of
smoke ascended straight into the darkening sky. The next morning
we found what we'd come for: the perfect radio, French-made,
portable, lightweight, slightly garish with its colored dial &
chromed knobs, inexpensive. "Because of the mountains, reception
is poor," the shop owner said, so he tuned in the local Communist
station beamed to Spain. "Communist?" I said. Oh yes, they'd
come twenty-five years ago to escape the Germans, & they'd stayed.
"Back then," he said, "we were all reds." "And now?" I said. Now
he could sell me anything I wanted. "Anything?" He nodded. A
tall graying man, his face carved down to its essentials. "A Cadil-
lac?" I said. Yes, of course, he could get on the phone & have it out
front--he checked his pocket watch--by four in the afternoon.
"An American film star?" One hand on his unshaved cheek, he
gazed upward at the dark beamed ceiling. "That could take a week."
A Poem from Spoon River Anthology
JEREMY CARLISLE
by: Edgar Lee Masters
Passer-by, sin beyond any sin
Is the sin of blindness of souls to other souls.
And joy beyond any joy is the joy
Of having the good in you seen, and seeing the good
At the miraculous moment!
Here I confess to a lofty scorn,
And an acrid skepticisum.
But do you remember the liquid that Penniwit
Poured on tintypes, making them blue
With a mist like hickory smoke?
Then how the picture began to clear
Till the face came forth like life?
So you appeared to me, neglected ones,
And enemies toom, as I went along
With my face growing clearer to you as yours
Grew clearer to me.
We were ready then to walk together
And sing in chorus and chant the dawn
Of life that is wholly life.
by: Edgar Lee Masters
Passer-by, sin beyond any sin
Is the sin of blindness of souls to other souls.
And joy beyond any joy is the joy
Of having the good in you seen, and seeing the good
At the miraculous moment!
Here I confess to a lofty scorn,
And an acrid skepticisum.
But do you remember the liquid that Penniwit
Poured on tintypes, making them blue
With a mist like hickory smoke?
Then how the picture began to clear
Till the face came forth like life?
So you appeared to me, neglected ones,
And enemies toom, as I went along
With my face growing clearer to you as yours
Grew clearer to me.
We were ready then to walk together
And sing in chorus and chant the dawn
Of life that is wholly life.
Cat Mommy
I don't have traditional human children. Instead, I have cats. The thing about cats is that they never really grow up. Yes they become "adult" cats but they never go to college, get a job and get married. They stay perpetual five year olds their entire lives. And I will always be their cat mommy with all the rights and responsibilities that entails. The hardest part of being a cat mommy is being strong when your baby is sick. All you want to do is cry but you can't because you have to be strong for your cat baby.
Last Saturday, I had to take my cat Cleo to the vet. She had a hematomia in her ear. The best way to explain what a hematomia is is to say it's like a bruise that has no place to spread. The blood vessels in her ear burst and the blood couldn't spread like it would in a normal bruise and instead her ear swelled. Part of the reason that there was so much blood in her ear is because cat ears have lots of blood vessels.
On Monday I took her to the vet who lanced, drained and bandaged her ear. After about an hour she managed to push the bandage off. Yesterday as she was walking by I noticed her ear looked a little odd. So, I picked her up and checked her ear to find it was even more swollen than on Monday.
Monday she goes back to get a more secure tube put in her ear versus the temporary one she has now but until then she has to be bandaged up. Her ear will be permanently broken as the weight from the blood has broken the delicate ear cartilage but she should be okay. I wish I could make her more comfortable and fix her ear. Mostly I wish she hadn't gotten hurt in the first place. We don't know how she hurt her ear. The vet speculated that she may have been scratching and she stabbed it with her nail. However, it happened the only thing I can do is be strong for her and get her through this moment in her little cat life.
Last Saturday, I had to take my cat Cleo to the vet. She had a hematomia in her ear. The best way to explain what a hematomia is is to say it's like a bruise that has no place to spread. The blood vessels in her ear burst and the blood couldn't spread like it would in a normal bruise and instead her ear swelled. Part of the reason that there was so much blood in her ear is because cat ears have lots of blood vessels.
On Monday I took her to the vet who lanced, drained and bandaged her ear. After about an hour she managed to push the bandage off. Yesterday as she was walking by I noticed her ear looked a little odd. So, I picked her up and checked her ear to find it was even more swollen than on Monday.
As it was the beginning of Easter weekend the office was about to close early so I rushed her to the vet. The vet put a small tube in her ear, more medicine down her ear and wrapped her head in gauze. She then sent me home with instructions on how to flush the ear by squirting deluded iodine through the tube, how to put more sap down her ear and how to redress her head. In addition she has to take a liquid antibiotic to help kill the infection that has developed in her ear. The process is uncomfortable and painful for Cleo and heart breaking for me. She hates the bandages covering her head and continually tries to push them off. Last night she slept with me so I could keep her from messing with her bandages. Luckily, she slept most of the night.
Monday she goes back to get a more secure tube put in her ear versus the temporary one she has now but until then she has to be bandaged up. Her ear will be permanently broken as the weight from the blood has broken the delicate ear cartilage but she should be okay. I wish I could make her more comfortable and fix her ear. Mostly I wish she hadn't gotten hurt in the first place. We don't know how she hurt her ear. The vet speculated that she may have been scratching and she stabbed it with her nail. However, it happened the only thing I can do is be strong for her and get her through this moment in her little cat life. A Woman of Lean
Lately, I've been feeling a little sad. I know I shouldn't complain about my financial situation because there are people who have far worse problems than me but there are some things that I'm already starting to miss about having money. Don't get me wrong, I've never been rich but up until a few months ago I was able to afford more things than I can now. I just wish I was still a woman of means rather than a woman of lean.
About two weeks ago, I bought two pairs of skinny jeans. I've been putting off having hemmed because I can't afford the $10 a pair. So, last week while surfing through Pinterest I found a pin about hemming jeans and decided to give it a try. I was pretty damn proud of myself and still am for being able to hem the jeans. However, the next day I started thinking about the fact that in the past few months I've had to really find ways around my financial problems and I was sad.
Along with hemming my own jeans, I've started coloring my own hair, doing my own manicures & pedicures, and I don't go out to eat anymore. It's true that, at least, I could afford to buy some new jeans but it's frustrating to know that I won't be buying any new clothes or shoes for at least, six months if not more. I hate that I can't afford the "me time" that came along with getting my hair and/or nails done. Mostly I miss going out with my friends. I hate declining invitations to dinner, movies or drinks.
I've been applying for adjunct positions in various junior colleges and I'm hoping one of them will pan out. I'm also thinking of selling Mary Kay but the initial investment seems a little too steep at the moment.
About two weeks ago, I bought two pairs of skinny jeans. I've been putting off having hemmed because I can't afford the $10 a pair. So, last week while surfing through Pinterest I found a pin about hemming jeans and decided to give it a try. I was pretty damn proud of myself and still am for being able to hem the jeans. However, the next day I started thinking about the fact that in the past few months I've had to really find ways around my financial problems and I was sad.
Along with hemming my own jeans, I've started coloring my own hair, doing my own manicures & pedicures, and I don't go out to eat anymore. It's true that, at least, I could afford to buy some new jeans but it's frustrating to know that I won't be buying any new clothes or shoes for at least, six months if not more. I hate that I can't afford the "me time" that came along with getting my hair and/or nails done. Mostly I miss going out with my friends. I hate declining invitations to dinner, movies or drinks.
I've been applying for adjunct positions in various junior colleges and I'm hoping one of them will pan out. I'm also thinking of selling Mary Kay but the initial investment seems a little too steep at the moment.
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