real poem (personal statement)
By Rachel Zucker
I skim sadness like fat off the surface
of cooling soup. Don't care about
metaphor but wish it would arrive
me. There’s a cool current of air
this hot day I want to ride.
I have no lover, not even my love.
I have no other, not even I.
Once again I had a catch-up chore Monday, so I don't have much to report except that I am really relieved that the Ravens and the NFL have finally gotten rid of Ray Rice and I am bummed that I forgot to get mooncakes before the moon festival arrived, by which time the local Asian food stores were out of them. The weather was gorgeous and cool all day long -- we never shut the windows last night so they were open more than 24 hours.
We watched Monday Night Football, which thankfully if belatedly was appalled by Rice's behavior (Fox News should fire Kilmeade and Doocy for their jokes about how Rice's mistake was getting caught) around Dallas, which is quite enjoyable this season -- mobsters! murders! Melinda Clarke! -- and I can't say I'm sorry the Giants lost. I feel very weird rooting for Dallas to win the East, but I can't root for the R-words or Michael Vick's ex-team.
Here are some more pictures of Loop, the light-and-music display at the Corcoran Gallery by media artist Jennifer Steinkamp and composer Jimmy Johnson, transforming the Corcoran's neoclassical rotunda by making viewer shadows part of the art display.