Poem for Friday

She-Fox
By Esther Raab
Translated by Kinereth Gensler

In the night fields a hungry she-fox
blasts, alone.
A single horn-blast -- then silence,
her voice like blood pouring into the night.
She is not one of the visitors and claimants;
sad, she blasts
just once -- then a hush.
Mutely the night's vastness answers.
When the cub suckles the last milk
her voice brims with the world's grief.
A stand of pine trees schemes and threatens,
fences sweep by.
Myrrh from nettles in the open fields
is as heavy as fog.
Chickens are sheltered in the coops,
and a pack of dogs squabbles through the emptiness.
A hungry she-fox lifts her head to the Pleiades,
a cold star mirrored in her eye
could be a tear in her pupil.
The cub will suckle at life's sad marrow --
the howl of foxes splits the night.

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Another poem from Judaism: A Quarterly Journal of Jewish Life and Thought's feature on feminist Hebrew poetry posted here. Raab, notes the article, "reverses the male-centered poetic iconography. She communicates an auto-erotic intimacy with the landscape and a familiarity with native Palestinian flora and fauna...the conflict between personal and collective demands characterizes many national literatures. Freeing a personal voice from the grip of the collective is an ongoing project in Hebrew literature, with women's writing leading the way."

Let me begin by mentioning the awesomeness of the Platypus. And presales for Great Big Sea's Fortune's Favour start Friday at noon. And yay Wil Wheaton -- Vertigo, what shall we do the night the Star Trek movie opens? Go out to dinner, then watch "Amok Time" and "Requiem for Methuselah"? *g*

Today I had the pleasure of lunch with PerkyPaduan, followed by the first hour or so of the director's cut of American Gangster, though she had to hit the road so we will finish it next week. It was not immediately apparent what, if anything, was added in that first hour, but I only saw the theatrical version of the film once. I also helped son a bit more with his web page and captioned photos on Picasa and contemplated things I need to buy before we go on vacation at the end of next month, like another bathing suit and some shirts that are nicer than t-shirts but don't need ironing and hopefully an inexpensive skort. I loathe shopping for clothes.


Little girls pet lambs at the Maryland Sheep & Wool Festival last weekend.


There was a fantastic selection of dyed wool...


...and hand-spun yarn like this beautiful collection.


There were also finished sweaters, scarves, gloves, socks, shawls, hats and pretty much every other article of clothing.


This is just-shorn llama wool (is it called wool if it's from a llama?).


And here is an unhappy sheep awaiting the same fate. It was baaing woefully.


There were sheep of every size and color, with varying horns and ear sizes...


...a great many of which were for sale.

We had jacket potatoes with turkey stew for dinner and watched Smallville, which would have been fun if it had embarked on this storyline while certain characters were still alive and had developed it over several seasons, but now seems to be playing "Canon? What canon?" with its own second season on top of chewing up and spitting out the previous history of Superman as I understand it. Spoilers: It's so very Da Vinci Code, right down to the secret society hiding clues in a foreign church and a faraway castle (is that church really in Montreal? Because it's beautiful), and as much as I miss Lionel, having Lex face up to having possibly killed his father for nothing, then unraveling his secret, would have made a great long-term arc.

Instead it's all getting crammed into half a season, though, and we get Edward Teague (the always wonderful Robert Picardo) only for a single episode in which he has to be a lunatic from the start, so wonderful moments like Edward's casual acknowledgment and dismissal of the fact that Lex killed Lionel get brushed past, and good lines like Jimmy saying Chloe "went Scully" on him barely register. More X-Files two years ago would have been fine, but at this late date it feels contrived. And the "Kal-El is Jesus" parallels at this late date are really, really irritating...Chloe using the cross to save the Savior! Ick! Now, what happened to the whole second season revelation that Jor-El sent his son to rule humanity? Suddenly Jor-El was such a humanitarian that he sent an off switch to random humans? Now Lex knows where the Fortress of Solitude is and will soon know what Clark is...canon, what canon indeed.

The Next Gen episode I watched to review is one I don't remember at all -- it was like brand new old Star Trek! Fun! Political commentary Thursday made me want to throw up all over people I like, far more than the opposition, so I am going to ignore everything until the Democrats have a nominee and then hold my nose and vote for him or her no matter who it is or who gets disenfranchised, insulted, underestimated, marginalized or misquoted between now and then. Sigh.