Poem for Thursday

On a Line from Valéry (The Gulf War)
By Carolyn Kizer

        Tout le ciel vert se meurt
        Le dernier arbre brûle.

The whole green sky is dying. The last tree flares
With a great burst of supernatural rose
Under a canopy of poisonous airs.

Could we imagine our return to prayers
To end in time before time's final throes,
The green sky dying as the last tree flares?

But we were young in judgement, old in years
Who could make peace; but it was war we chose,
To spread its canopy of poisoning airs.

Not all our children's pleas and women's fears
Could steer us from this hell. And now God knows
His whole green sky is dying as it flares.

Our crops of wheat have turned to fields of tares.
This dreadful century staggers to its close
And the sky dies for us, its poisoned heirs.

All rain was dust. Its granules were our tears.
Throats burst as universal winter rose
To kill the whole green sky, the last tree bare
Beneath its canopy of poisoned air.

--------

So I've come to the conclusion that I am one of four remaining people I know (the other three being , and ) watching Smallville and not Lost among those I know who watch TV at 8 on Wednesdays and talk about it regularly. I really wish there was a way to filter just the Lost entries off my list because not only don't I care but I really don't like Dom um, it's just not my style or something. Anyway, my kids and I outvoted my husband for the main TV last night so we could all watch Lex and Lionel, that is, Clark and the Flash, and were entertained despite the built-in badness. And then the aforementioned pointed me to this, from Glover's charity auction for Alzheimer's, and look at the prop he picked and look at the picture of Lionel and Lex he picked! And next week it looks like Clark and Lionel may be switching bodies and oh the slashy incestuous possibilities. I am so not ready to give up on Smallville.

Since the Red Sox were actually winning and we are a superstitious lot -- in my father's household, if you are scratching your butt and the Redskins score, you have to keep scratching your butt for the rest of the game for good luck -- we decided that we could not afford to put the game on in the living room, as that would certainly jinx things. So we flipped channels and there to my surprise and chagrin was The West Wing season premiere. Somewhere at the back of my mind I had known this was airing, and that last season's finale was on in the hour before, and I had meant to watch because even though I barely paid attention to TWW last season due to its mediocrity, I wanted to see Jason Isaacs. So I shrieked, and we watched, and Jason Isaacs is not only sexy as hell but it amazes me how much he becomes the characters he's playing to the extent that I feel like I know them even when I've missed their entire backstories...but what really got me was how the show felt like it was about something, which I did not feel for the parts of last season I bothered to watch. Maybe I will actually pay attention this season though the Alan Alda parody politician does not make me feel good from the previews.

There was much shouting and squeeing and late night phone calls to husband's far-flung Red Sox fan relatives after the game (we did watch the end, though I tried not to look too closely as superstitions die hard). And since I'd had Smartfood and ice cream to distract myself from caring -- I refuse to get too excited about sports, there are too many more important things to worry about and god knows what I will devour on election night -- I went to bed reasonably full and content.

Then I woke up and made the mistake of reading the news. I have many political rants, about yeah certain candidate's wives should shut up on certain subjects but sheesh does anyone honestly think the current administration will be better for work-at-home mothers like myself than Kerry will, and about how much I appreciated Frank Rich in The New York Times this morning and things like that, but again I am so not in the mood for arguing and infighting even among people who are supposed to be on the same side. Am feeling really depressed about anger and idiocy and all the pettiness that gets in the way of political efficacy. It's almost like being back in academia.

This is a really small and petty concern but I loved the novel Eucalyptus and was utterly thrilled when I heard that Russell Crowe would be playing the male lead. Now I am really, really hoping that the deal falls through for Nicole Kidman to play the female lead; except for having the right accent she is wrong for the part in every way (too old, too sophisticated even when she tries not to be as The Human Stain proved, and way too...Nicole Kidman). I would really like to be able to see this movie and now I'm sort of sorry Russell is doing it, because there is no way I'm watching him and Nicole do love scenes as these characters.

Boy what an unpleasant whiny entry this has been. Here, Rosie and Cinnamon have a rough morning as well as they watch Jack rip open a garbage bag on the deck that didn't fit into the trash can and attempt to eat leftover chocolate chip pancakes right before the evil overlord (yours truly) intervened: