Sunday, June 22, 2008
FTS!!!!
So...I really think one of the most important qualities one can possess is the ability to cheer oneself up. Knowing which songs to play, which books to open, which stupid little things can snap you out of a funk, at least momentarily. And then those moments string into minutes and then those minutes gradually float away and you stop being so negative and pessimistic.
Along those lines, I've recently re-discovered Galway Kinnell...I remember reading his poems a few years ago and really feeling that he struck a chord.
He has this one poem, "The Correspondence School Instructor Says Goodbye to his Poetry Students" and I love the lines:
I swear to you, it was just my way
of cheering myself up, as I licked
the stamped, self-addressed envelopes,
the game I had
of trying to guess which one of you, this time,
had poisoned his glue.
I love that sort of morbid imagination...and for me it really brings the character to life.
He has this other poem...which I copied and pasted here. It's so sweet.
After Making Love We Hear Footsteps
by Galway Kinnell
For I can snore like a bullhorn
or play loud music
or sit up talking with any reasonably sober Irishman
and Fergus will only sink deeper
into his dreamless sleep, which goes by all in one flash,
but let there be that heavy breathing
or a stifled come-cry anywhere in the house
and he will wrench himself awake
and make for it on the run - as now, we lie together,
after making love, quiet, touching along the length of our bodies,
familiar touch of the long-married,
and he appears - in his baseball pajamas, it happens,
the neck opening so small
he has to screw them on, which one day may make him wonder
about the mental capacity of baseball players -
and flops down between us and hugs us and snuggles himself to sleep,
his face gleaming with satisfaction at being this very child.
In the half darkness we look at each other
and smile
and touch arms across his little, startling muscled body -
this one whom habit of memory propels to the ground of his making,
sleeper only the mortal sounds can sing awake,
this blessing love gives again into our arms.
Along those lines, I've recently re-discovered Galway Kinnell...I remember reading his poems a few years ago and really feeling that he struck a chord.
He has this one poem, "The Correspondence School Instructor Says Goodbye to his Poetry Students" and I love the lines:
I swear to you, it was just my way
of cheering myself up, as I licked
the stamped, self-addressed envelopes,
the game I had
of trying to guess which one of you, this time,
had poisoned his glue.
I love that sort of morbid imagination...and for me it really brings the character to life.
He has this other poem...which I copied and pasted here. It's so sweet.
After Making Love We Hear Footsteps
by Galway Kinnell
For I can snore like a bullhorn
or play loud music
or sit up talking with any reasonably sober Irishman
and Fergus will only sink deeper
into his dreamless sleep, which goes by all in one flash,
but let there be that heavy breathing
or a stifled come-cry anywhere in the house
and he will wrench himself awake
and make for it on the run - as now, we lie together,
after making love, quiet, touching along the length of our bodies,
familiar touch of the long-married,
and he appears - in his baseball pajamas, it happens,
the neck opening so small
he has to screw them on, which one day may make him wonder
about the mental capacity of baseball players -
and flops down between us and hugs us and snuggles himself to sleep,
his face gleaming with satisfaction at being this very child.
In the half darkness we look at each other
and smile
and touch arms across his little, startling muscled body -
this one whom habit of memory propels to the ground of his making,
sleeper only the mortal sounds can sing awake,
this blessing love gives again into our arms.
# posted by MegS @ 9:35 PM 
