By Richard Siken
I looked at all the trees and didn't know what to do.
A box made out of leaves.
What else was in the woods? A heart, closing. Nevertheless.
Everyone needs a place. It shouldn't be inside of someone else.
I kept my mind on the moon. Cold moon, long nights moon.
From the landscape: a sense of scale.
From the dead: a sense of scale.
I turned my back on the story. A sense of superiority.
Everything casts a shadow.
Your body told me in a dream it's never been afraid of anything.
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We mostly did chores on Saturday, though they weren't annoying ones. Adam has been rearranging his room and wanted some containers for under his bed, so we went to Target to get those for him (as well as new brooms and mops since we used our old ones on the shattered lightbulb), plus we took him to an art store to order a mat cutter, and that was across the street from the pet store where we stopped for cat litter. Also, it was free pretzel day at Auntie Annie's, so we went to the one in the mall on the way to see Peter Max at the Wentworth Gallery, where he and a great deal of his art were celebrating his poster design for the 100th National Cherry Blossom Festival.
We had a coupon for free Papa John's pizza for dinner, then we watched Julie Taymor's Tempest with Helen Mirren as Prospera. I love revisionist Tempests (John Cassavetes' version is one of my favorite movies even though it is, at heart, a rich white male mid-life crisis flick which I usually hate) and this one is phenomenal -- Mirren, Ben Whishaw's Ariel, Alfred Molina's Stephano, and Djimon Hounsou's Caliban in particular, though I am not sure how I feel about the traditional racial hierarchy in a film that reimagines the power of gender. I will just have to watch it again, which will be worthwhile just to hear Mirren do "Our revels are now ended" again.
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