May 01, 2009


What can you really say when you can sleep with the windows open all night for the first time months? I thought I got spoiled, being out west til 12/5, but the season hammered me same as it always does, as it does to everyone. Horrible winter is the great equalizer. In the midwest ppl blame all their malaise and funk and weird idle shiftlessness on that it's been a long winter and it's not quite spring the same way that people in LA blame things on astrology. A winter that wouldn't quite quit is our mercury in retrograde.

Got a couple few emails today about loving that Tony Hoagland poem, it's in a book called Donkey Gospel, which has a few other poems nearly of that caliber, and some that weirdly remind me of Joe Frank stories. One entitled "Lucky" which reminded me of the pentultimate saddest part of Rick Moody's Purple America (a book chockfull of sad parts); it's about giving his elderly mother a bath. It also has which is about defending D.H. Lawrence's work at a dinner party and has an ending I like a lot:

Or maybe Iíll just take the shortcut
between the spirit and the flesh,
and punch someone in the face,
because human beings havenít come that far

in their effort to subdue the body,
and we still walk around like zombies
in our dying, burning world,
able to do little more

than fight, and fuck, and crow,
something Lawrence wrote about
in such a manner
as to make us seem magnificent.

Posted by jessica hopper at May 1, 2009 12:19 AM | TrackBack