dog & cats

Flash chews on her butt. Not her butthole. No. But just this side of her tail. Sometimes she'll walk by and there'll be this wet tousled spot, like some creature is riding her pelvis. She hasn't chewed herself raw this year. Not yet. Hoping she won't. We buy the hella expensive flea stuff, the topical that supposedly kills every flea within shouting distance for a month and the internal that renders infertile those fleas that didn't hear the shouting. But she gets itchy anyway. She probably picks up fleas outside -- a few bites and her skin bothers her.

We treat the cats, too. I've seen Sutra stop suddenly and bite himself. I haven't noticed any bites on myself. But Kent said he caught a flea a week or so ago. And I think I saw one, maybe.

Last weekend I bought new cat toys to enrich their environment. The cats spend the night and our workday shut inside and haven't had anything new to pounce on in ages. I got two clear plastic balls, about golf ball size, one having a plastic fish skeleton inside that spins, the other having paddles around which tiny balls cascade. Kent saw that the balls always maintain a distance from each other, so they must be magnetic opposites. Also bought a ball that's made of some sort of foil, looks a bit like a chrysanthemum. Sundy likes to bite plastic and foil. The pet store had lots of catnip toys, but when the cats were kittens and we offered them a catnippy something they were uninterested, so I didn't buy anything with catnip. However, there's a bulk herb-spice store that I pass on the way home from work so I stopped in today and bought a half ounce of catnip. We wrapped it up in a rag, tied it shut with a rubber band & wire twist tie. A few minutes ago Kent showed me how dampened it is. Making Sundy slobber? So Sundance has played with the toys. Sutra seems mostly suspicious, if not altogether fearful. This evening he walked by the catnip toy on the floor, sniffed it, but seemed to find the smell disconcerting and jumped away, skirting the toy by several feet to get out of the room.

Republicans helping gay marriage?

It seems the Republican Party sent out a mailer claiming that "liberal politicians" want to ban the bible and "allow" men to marry. I just saw the mailer at Atrios' Eschaton. The fear picture of the two men who are to be "allowed" to marry is of two very ordinary-looking men smiling, wearing shirts they could've bought at Target or the Gap, short hair, white. I realize that for the target audience ANY suggestion of man-man sex makes them stay up late, sweating and beating themselves (off), but my thought was, what a nice picture. No leather, no funny shaped hair, no racial difference, no disparity in age. This would be a best face picture of gay marriage: American Dull. Seems to me in the long run this helps desensitize the American public to the idea of gay people marrying. Kinda like a photo of little black boys and little white girls holding hands -- to a segment of the population such a picture would inspire only fear & loathing, to others (more others?) it'd be nothing to be afraid of. Some who hadn't before might wonder what's been scaring them.

Bush and debates

In a new TIME article Joe Klein says, "I've never seen George Bush lose a debate." Curiously, I remember Bush losing the first Gore-Bush debate. As research is at our fingertips these days I easily found this CNN article from Oct 3, 2000, which says, "a CNN/USA Today/Gallup poll taken immediately after Tuesday night's presidential debate indicated 48 percent of registered voters thought Gore did the best job in the debate, compared to 41 percent for Bush."

Bush won? Only the way he always wins, by losing but being handed the win by others. The Republicans managed to spin Bush's performance (remember the CW coming up to the debate was that he was an idiot and would look foolish); when Bush seemed adequately intelligent in the debate, that was blown up into a big success and the talking heads of the media happily parroted the notion of a Bush "win".

optimism

The last time I didn't vote in a presidential election was 1988 when I was in London. I put in a request for a sample ballot and I think it even got to the house where I was staying but the mother of the family was also an American so voted absentee. When the election was getting close and I wondered aloud if my ballot was going to arrive she casually mentioned she'd received 2 ballots and threw one away. I protested but she insisted both ballots had had her name on them and she wasn't going to vote twice. I had put on the absentee ballot application that the ballot should be sent to me in care of her so I suspect one of those ballots was actually mine. On the other hand, what does one vote matter, really? I didn't want to vote for Dukakis. He wanted to rip children out of the homes of gay parents and that put me off him right good.

This election I'm going to be at a resort in Hawaii so I won't be able to toddle over to the Friends Meeting House to do the civic thing. Whee! Yes, I will vote. Either absentee or early at the registrar's office. I'll probably vote for Cobb, the Green Party candidate. I'm pissed at Kerry for dumping on marriage. If the vote were close in California Kerry would be dead meat anyway. But if the race were close I would maybe probably could be vote for Kerry. There are good things about him. A blog I discovered recently, andrewtobias.com is optimistic about Kerry's chances. Tobias says, "We won last time ..."

can Bush win?

He didn't last time.

I look at polls that show scary and amazing support for our current criminal regime and am baffled and appalled. How could anyone think anything positive about these goons? Yet millions seem to. Could Bush actually win?

As he didn't win in 2000 Bush would have to get more votes than he got last time. In order for Bush to get more votes he would have to get people to vote for him who four years ago voted for Al Gore. Are there people who will switch?

Geotpf at MyDD was wondering the same thing. He found a poll that asked the question. And a much smaller proportion of Gore voters than Bush voters indicated that they planned to vote for the other guy this time.

Thus, says Geotpf, "Logically, Kerry is a shoo-in."

A coworker last week was going on about how certain he was that Bush would win. He didn't like the idea, but what can you do? I ran by this coworker the notion that Bush needed Gore voters if he was going to win. As we are in Berkeley CA there's nobody around us insane enough to switch, but coworker claimed to have grown up in the "heartland" and have plenty of friends and family there and people there, he says, really rallied around Bush. Perhaps coworker could find for me a few Gore voters who'd seen the error of their ways and were now planning to vote for Bush. I said I was honestly curious about what such people might say. It's been a week or so. I doubt coworker has actually asked anybody, but next time I see him I'll follow up.

comments on version 4

When a poem changes this much from its earlier version(s) one may wonder if it continues to be the same poem. Maybe call this a new poem on the theme.

"Our Two Trees" version 4 (note title change)

Styles of the Season

Spring

The maple

red


The apple

green
white


Fall

The maple

red
green
yellow


The apple

green
yellow
red

Info Desk Blogging

It seems someone didn't show up for their Info Desk hour so I've been sent to do the duty.

Busier with only one person on the desk. But it's not been hectic, exactly. I'm a little unclear on whether we're supposed to check the shelf for patrons who call in ... or whether we're just supposed to put a hold on the book via the computer and let a library aide hunt it up after hours.

... ooh, the time it goes so fast. Time to return to my usual cubicle.

dreaming it up

Steve Mueske has been trying to figure out where a poem comes from. See his blog.

Steve says he dreams about working on poems. So I responded, "One morning upon awaking I found my notebook open next to the bed. There was on a blank page a very intently written squiggle about the size of a single word. It wasn't till later that day I remembered that I had been writing down a dream word, a word from a language other than English. In the dream I might have thought it was Spanish but I remembered wondering if it really was a Spanish word (or any word that might be recognizable in waking life), so I propped myself on my elbow and pulled my notebook over and wrote it down.

Maybe I should've turned on the light."

bad writing

Nick Page has devoted his life to the quest for the worst writers of all time. By "worst" he means writers who are "so wonderfully awful, they have unwittingly arrived at genius ..."

Page disparages James Whitcomb Riley, a poet very popular in his day. An example:

Thweet Poethy! let me lithp forthwith
That I may thhing of the name of Smith --
which name, alath!
In harmony hath
No adequate rhyme, letht you grant me thith--
That the thimple, thibillant thound of eth --
(Which to thave my thoul, I cannot expreth!)
Thuth I may thhingingly,
Wooingly and winningly
Thu-thu-thound in the name of Smith.

*

I don't know. At least it's funny. Sorta. There's so much boring writing. I guess that's part of Page's point. I can agree that at times bad writing can be so awful it's its own kind of amazing. But poking around his site I keep reading work that's not really bad.

comments on "Our Two Trees", version 3

I didn't really have ideas when I started revising tonight. There were enough problems with version 2, I guess. I posted version 1 on a couple poetry bulletin boards, Haven and Melic Review's Roundtable.

I don't know that the comments were helpful. They weren't NOT helpful. But they didn't tell me anything I didn't know. Except that I got a more enthusiastic response than I expected. That was something, wasn't it? I'm not going to post this version. I'm thinking I'll wait for version 4. I don't expect it to be much different. But who knows?

"Our Two Trees" version 3

The maple’s spring is seed-first.
Red head to red head, the seeds edge
out in twos , the body of each a wing,
also red and still too soft for flight.

Out of the apple, however, spring spills.
Up all limbs buds’ dark shells have split
and big green leaves flop over
sudden white blossoms.

thoughts & thinking

First workday I've taken off since my mother died. I called in sick, feeling weary, achy, melancholy.

Have spent much of the day reading. I finished the chapbook Jack Martin gave me when he visited. Bark. Jack dares to be sentimental. Reminded me a little of Edward Field, another poet who gets sentimental, but whose writing is good to read. The horror over sentimentality. I don't get it. There are worse sins. Excess of sentiment. But what is excess? I wrote a poem once in which I talked about carrying around a box for tears. An editor called it "maudlin." Excess bad. Excess can be bad. Moderation can be bad, of course. Good can be bad. Etc. Many times I've had the physical sensation of a knot of tears in my chest. This is merely descriptive, not melodramatic. Not excess. Unless truth be excessive. Or fact. Or the presence.

Absence of sentiment. Can you have a poetry absent of sentiment?

My brother David writes about our mother's last days. July 25. July 30. August 5.

Kent suggested fish for dinner tonight. I like the idea. When I finish writing I'll go to Andronico's and get some fish.

comments on "Our Two Trees", version 2

Why do I find this poem so tired? Certainly the subject is about as done as done can be. As in the first version I'm trying too hard to be fancy. I envy people who are good at description. I sure don't feel I am. Acknowledging that, I've turned my poetry to what I think are my strengths -- metaphor (not simile) that builds a story of itself, and imaginative leaps (often suggested by the metaphor). In "Our Two Trees" I try to capture the contrasts of the spring styles of the trees in the yard. But who cares?

Our Two Trees, version 2

The maple’s spring is seed-first,
in twos, red head to red head,
from each seed, not yet stiffened for flight,
one red wing’s been lowered.

Out of the apple, however, spring spills.
Too tightly packed? The leaves’ green,
blossoms’ white – hurled out,
thrown, falling. From invisible wire exploding.

definition of art

from Edmund White's The Farewell Symphony:

"To me, a work of art is a performance of a certain length that generates interest." (italics in original)

Info Desk Blogging

My schedule is of such montonous sameness (indistinguishably montonous regularity even!) that I don't expect variation. It took me weeks to get in the habit of a Tuesday 11-12 Info Desk. Now that my Info Desk hour is 2-3 Friday ...

At 2:05 my desk phone rang. Sam: "Are you supposed to be on the Info Desk?"

One reminder later, I am, sir, reporting for duty.

A few of today's Qs: What is the phone number for the Library Board of Trustees (the board's last meeting seemed to have moved without notice)? Do we have internet access? Can't find The Poisonwood Bible on the shelf. I would like a library card. Eric Clapton CDs?

It's not been too busy. My Info Desk partner told me last week I'm going to be on my own for the next month. And it was really busy with her around. I expected craziness. Turns out there's not much to blog about.

deleting

From a book of short stories that the library is discarding: "They operated and got the glass out of me, and I ended up in a nice bed with clean sheets and my own radio to listen to. They fed good, too, for a hospital." A patron has added a note in pencil in the margin: "Tampa General Hospital? I used to work there."

comments on "Our Two Trees", version 1

Time for a new poem. This one is from a 1991 notebook. I was still living in my mother's house in Sebastopol, CA. We had two trees in the yard, a trident maple and an apple.

"Our Two Trees"

How nice it is to see spring unsheathing from the apple’s
hard buds. The maple starts with seeds,
red, joined at the head, their membranous wings
hanging like sleeves; behind them the trident leaves
hang back, their tips like an animal’s capillary
bundle, precious and fresh, sipping at the changeable
weather. The apples bursts out. Leaves and blossoms
tumbling as from a tight back – somewhat difficult
to unpack everything, but once the first present themselves
the rest hurl softly into air.