Poem for Friday

Reading Time: 1 Minute 26 Seconds
By Muriel Rukeyser

The fear of poetry is the
fear: mystery and fury of a midnight street
of windows whose low voluptuous voice
issues, and after that there is not peace.

The round waiting moment in the
theatre: curtain rises, dies into the ceiling
and here is played the scene with the mother
bandaging a revealed son's head. The bandage is torn off.
Curtain goes down. And here is the moment of proof.

That climax when the brain acknowledges the world,
all values extended into the blood awake.
Moment of proof. And as they say Brancusi did,
building his bird to extend through soaring air,
as Kafka planned stories that draw to eternity
through time extended. And the climax strikes.

Love touches so, that months after the look of
blue stare of love, the footbeat on the heart
is translated into the pure cry of birds
following air-cries, or poems, the new scene.
Moment of proof. That strikes long after act.

They fear it. They turn away, hand up, palm out
fending off moment of proof, the straight look, poem.
The prolonged wound-consciousness after the bullet's shot.
The prolonged love after the look is dead,
the yellow joy after the song of the sun.

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I spent today trying to get some stuff done for going to the beach on Saturday, which of course means that I did not 1) finish the laundry, 2) find a bathing suit, 3) remember to get sunblock at Target, 4) figure out what I need to pack...I am sure tomorrow is going to be complete chaos. And I am not sure that I will be able to get online at all, let alone for any length of time, from Saturday to Saturday, so if you don't hear from me please don't be angry -- we are not even positive that the lines are touch-tone as opposed to rotary so I don't know if I'll be able to dial in.

Tonight we all watched Star Trek's "The Menagerie", which I need to review tomorrow...damn, but that is a great episode despite the painful sexism dragged in from the original pilot. When Kirk was doing the "Spock! I trusted you!" routine, my younger son said, "Anakin! You were my brother! I loved you!" and we all howled. It's bad when your nine-year-old not only notices the slash but can do crossover parodies. *g* Then we read chapters 27 and 28 of HBP since and younger son have not finished the book yet -- those are probably the two toughest chapters, and I have killed my not-quite-recovered-from-cold voice reading them aloud. My family disagrees with me about the motives and degree of evil of my favorite character, which should make for interesting conversations on the way to the beach. Saw the new Glamour or whichever magazine it is that has Jennifer Connelly on the cover and thought they must be doing an article on anorexia. She looks godawful, like Karen Carpenter right before she died. Jennifer: please eat something.

That meme to prove that people are reading your LJ? I am not commenting on anyone's, even if I saw it there. If you're mad because you think I should have commented on something of yours, or you are pretty sure I skipped reading my friends list altogether on a day when you had huge news, by all means write to me and tell me about it, but don't give me grief because I didn't answer a survey or a meme. There are 600 people on my friends list of whom perhaps 20 post regularly in my journal and another 15 or so on my fic, so it isn't as if we're all in dialogue all the time or even keeping up with every single entry, is it? As I said last month, if you're only here for the fan fiction you are welcome to read it all elsewhere, and if you are simply bored with me, I completely understand. I've switched primary fandoms several times since having been on LJ, I'm posting more photos and less personal stuff and politics unlocked, I know everyone has lives.


A horse looks through the window of the museum store (which incidentally has lots of lovely nautical treasures).


College Creek cuts right through the middle of the city. It's so pretty.


People watch the mommy and baby ducks while a man prepares to take his dog out on the water.


View of the Severn River from the upper floor of the Naval Academy visitor's center.


The Naval Academy chapel with its stained glass windows.


There are cannons, torpedoes and other retired military equipment all over the grounds of the Naval Academy.


View of the river out the window of Buddy's Crabs & Ribs. Sorry about the condiment display in the middle.