06 November 2007


The cold is improving. I am typing with a chattery four-year-old on my lap. He's telling me all about his little homemade Star Wars lego ship. Until recently, he'd never seen Star Wars, but his knowledge of SW was fueled by the Lego Star Wars PS2 game. Now he's hooked. It gives his Trekkie father fits.
I have a fan blowing in my basement along the hanging rack my father-in-law built me. I pull clothes out of the washer and put them on hanngers to dry. I'm feeling rather self-satisfied with my conservationist thrift. As long as I plan ahead, I can make sure things are plenty dry by the time I need them, and I'm saving electricity. Socks and undies are kind of a pain, though.
For poetry class, we discussed this the other day:

Lying in a Hammock at William Duffy's Farm in Pine Island, Minnesota

Over my head, I see the bronze butterfly,
Asleep on the black trunk,
blowing like a leaf in green shadow.
Down the ravine behind the empty house,
The cowbells follow one another
Into the distances of the afternoon.
To my right,
In a field of sunlight between two pines,
The droppings of last year's horses
Blaze up into golden stones.
I lean back, as the evening darkens and comes on.
A chicken hawk floats over, looking for home.
I have wasted my life.

James Wright

Bill assigned us to write a suggestion for what the speaker means by "I have wasted my life."
Almost immediately I had my thought, but it came in the form of a response poem, so I rattled it off:

“I have wasted my life…”

By not spending more time lying in hammocks
Listening to cowbells.
I have wasted my life
Chasing the almighty dollar
Instead of Bronze butterflies
I have wasted my life
Burning the droppings
Rather than watching their blaze
I have wasted my life paying a mortgage
Not searching for home
With the chicken hawks

Just remember, any tomatoes you throw will just platter your own screen.


Udder den dat, I got nothin', so y'all can go to bed now.

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