by Kenneth Rexroth
I pass your home in a slow vermilion dawn,
The blinds are drawn, and the windows are open.
The soft breeze from the lake
Is like your breath upon my cheek.
All day long I walk in the intermittent rainfall.
I pick a vermilion tulip in the deserted park,
Bright raindrops cling to its petals.
At five o'clock it is a lonely color in the city.
I pass your home in a rainy evening,
I can see you faintly, moving between lighted walls.
Late at night I sit before a white sheet of paper,
Until a fallen vermilion petal quivers before me.
* * * *
Have read that Yahoo has been hacked, spammed, infected by a virus or otherwise disabled. This explains why I have gotten parts one and three of certain stories from mailing lists but am missing part two.
May I just say that I really dislike the current plan for Ground Zero and really loved the design for the open-lattice ghost towers?
I was sad about Mr. Rogers yesterday but this New York Times editorial just broke my heart.
And Nicholas Kristof suggests that Bush negotiate with North Korea, if "negotiation" is in his vocabulary -- it's a five-syllable word.
I am home in the snow with my kids...again. If you miss me, call. *g*