I have been too dispirited for my normal blog posts, but life goes on, inexorably. Here is a poem about this particular time:
Mediation in an Election Year, 2016
When the house she and her husband
built by hand went up in flames
just after they finished
the intricate panes of the central rose window,
Margaret Sanger, sixth of eleven
children, gave up on things material
and devoted herself to what we call
(because of her) birth control. Antique
methods: the pessary,
a little boric acid, the douche,
imported from Europe. She was jailed
just for saying the words, the idea
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxWhat is it to be
“American”? Is it sitting among lime trees
at the garden table of a house borrowed
from a wealthy friend
who summers at Martha’s Vineyard? Continue reading “Resuming…”
We’ve been in Baja all week; it was supposed to be a rest and celebration. Of course, it hasn’t been that. While it’s been weird to be in a tropical non-USA paradise, the indifferent, perfect ocean has been some consolation.
And Larry, ever that man for black humor in a bleak hour, this morning came up with: “I hope I haven’t gotten too tan to get back into the United States.”
That will have to do for now. Though I did sign a petition to revoke the electoral college.
No, it’s not because of political chaos, it’s just that the labyrinth has become too labor intensive. I decided to have a little pond and rock garden instead. The first step is digging up plants I want to save–easy to do after the rain–and pot them for the short term, to replant after the stonework and pond are done.
It’s looking a bit trashed at the moment, but I made a discovery in the process–not a giant asparagus, but a flowering of aloe: Continue reading “Dismantling the labyrinth”