Poem for Thursday and Mount Vernon Lambs

Dear Corporation,
By Adam Fell

I don't know how to say how I feel politely, or poetically, or without the jugular and collapse of the immediate heart, so tonight, I won't say anything at all. Just stare out the window at our stunned little writhe. Hold back the strongest urge to knock out a few of the capitol's most critical walls, replace its fiber optic cables with lightning bugs, replace the investment bankers all with bunker busters. I lock eyes with the capitol's bright and empty rooms and admit that, sometimes, deep in my affluent, American cells, I miss my body carved to projectile. I miss trebuchet shoulders and knuckles flaked to arrowheads, miss my hands massive and molded from molten to the bolts of ballistas. I miss blackjack and cudgel and quarterstaff and flintlock. I miss pummel and pike and I am not proud of this. I know it's not a healthy feeling. I try to un-arm, to un-cock. I try to practice my breathing. I try The Master Cleanse, The Stationary Bike, The Bikram Sweat, The Contortion Stretch, The Vegan Meatloaf, The Nightly, Scorching Bath, The Leafy Greens and Venom Television, The Self-Mutilation of a Winter's Run, but we can only cleanse our bodies so much before we realize it's not our bodies that need detoxing.

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I am not having an exciting week to report on, sorry -- most of what was truly interesting in my day happened online, like gay marriage gaining ground in Nevada and Rhode Island, this great Washington Post article on Israeli and Palestinian food and politics, and Cara making me think about the hotness of Liam Neeson and Russell Crowe together in The Next Three Days. Otherwise some work got done, some laundry got folded, and I might have rewatched The Confrontation from Les Mis for research purposes.

Once again the weather was spectacular -- temperatures back in the 70s, flowers (and pollen) everywhere, squirrels and chipmunks enjoying our new deck even though we need to refill the bird feeder so the cardinals are boycotting us. We watched an episode of PBS's series on Australia: The First 4 Billion Years, which is really well done, then we watched The Americans, which is also really well done and stressful and sad and it is probably masochistic of me to care about any of the characters. For relaxation, here are some Mount Vernon sheep and their babies: