Here’s a beautiful poem by Barbara Crooker to start your day.
Maybe night is about to come
calling, but right now
the sun is still high in the sky.
It’s half-past October, the woods
are on fire, blue skies stretch
all the way to heaven. Of course,
we know winter is coming, its thin
winding sheets and its hard narrow bed.
But right now, the season’s fermented
to fullness, so slip into something
light, like your skeleton; while these old
bones are still working, my darling,
Foolish Questions: Art Spiegelman’s review of Screwball!: The Cartoonists That Made the Funnies Funny by Paul C. Tumey is a wonderful long-read. The review itself was fascinating and informative. I never knew Rube Goldberg was an actual person.
This wonderful poem by Danusha Laméris seems a good way to start the week:
I’ve been thinking about the way, when you walk
down a crowded aisle, people pull in their legs
to let you by. Or how strangers still say “bless you”
when someone sneezes, a leftover
from the Bubonic plague. “Don’t die,” we are saying.
And sometimes, when you spill lemons
from your grocery bag, someone else will help you
pick them up. Mostly, we don’t want to harm each other.
We want to be handed our cup of coffee hot,
and to say thank you to the person handing it. To smile
at them and for them to smile back. For the waitress
to call us honey when she sets down the bowl of clam chowder,
and for the driver in the red pick-up truck to let us pass.
We have so little of each other, now. So far
from tribe and fire. Only these brief moments of exchange.
What if they are the true dwelling of the holy, these
fleeting temples we make together when we say, “Here,
have my seat,” “Go ahead–you first,” “I like your hat.”
The story of the RMS Carpathia, a ship that tried to save the sinking Titanic is genuinely spellbinding.
Oh wow. World Travel: An Irreverant Guide by Anthony Bourdain will be out in October of this year. This is an automatic get for me. The loss of his voice made the world poorer.