I really don't like reading about a writer's illnesses in a blog. Forgive me in advance. A detestable and disgusting flu visited our house and has been with us since a day or two after Thanksgiving. Two of the tree children have returned to school and the the third should be back on Monday (when I also hope to be back a work.) My justification for broadcasting this?I feel as if we've all dropped off the earth and some folk may be wondering why. Now, of course, there is an upside. We are all considerably slimmer and, when we can bring ourselves to eat, will have carte blanche with the holiday goodies.
Ice made mortar on the wing with practiced hands,
smoothing stucco on the ceiling.
Pristine shimmers clotted in plaster
until it joined fissures
and masked blemishes of 68 souls
plunging toward rusted earth.
In decorated fresco
loam and gristle merged
and a new creation myth was sketched.
Loose fingers drew the sacrifice with human artifact
and the golden leaves of the farmer’s beans.
Posted by Anyone need some kohlrabi? at 11:24 AM
The moment you left is lost.
It slipped somewhere between
our midnights on the dusty floors
at Bill Street and
my Moses years. Driving away,
nosing for a scent of you
on the Mohave's heat bent horizon,
Linda Rondstadt reminding
me that I'd been cheated.
I visit Bill Streeet often,
find you in our doorless room;
you leave left-handed trails
across my back and search for books
in the folds of checkered sheets.
Posted by Anyone need some kohlrabi? at 9:33 AM
Flying by the seat of one's pants is an under-celebrated craft. For the past two weeks I have been keyboard challenged because Max, apparently a bit tipsy from the cork he'd been gnawing, spied a glass of cabernet on the desk and decided he needed a taste. He got one. And so did the keyboard, which, forced to deal with a sticky, red hangover and a broken space bar, was unable to rally and perform. Thereafter, until the arrival of my beautiful new keyboard last evening, all of my communications looked=like=this =because=the=equal=sign=was=the=new=space. Briefly I considered a dabble in the concrete poetic form but abandoned that for the mammoth electronic pile of unanswered email. That done, check this out:
It's a mediocre photo of the magnificent contents of a package from the lovely floozyknit, my secret pal extraordinaire. Contents included four balls of Kaalund Yarns Enchante in the Rainforest colourway. It's an exquisite blend of greens and gold that remind me of a baroque tapestry. I'm not quite decided about what it should be, but I'm leaning toward a lovingly stitched entrelac scarf. Preliminary swatches tell me that the addi turbos are not up to this yarn and that birch is too grabby. But, an old pair of swallow casein single points that have been languishing in my needle jar for years manage it perfectly. Perfect glide. Perfect grab. Ahh. Accompanying this lovely yarn were some lavender sachets and hand creme. Sachets, what an inspired indulgence! And my hands never smelled so summery, leaving them a perfect backdrop for three beaded green and gold bracelets.
At this point, sweet readers, you are no doubt envious of the remarkable secret pal in my life. I understand. And, I must confess that there is more:
It's a copy of the premiere issue (Autumn 2006) of Yarn Forward, an independent (what a wonderful word) publication out of the UK. My secret pal hails from Scotland,
a beautiful green land I was lucky enough to visit for a too short weekend when I spent a year in London studying journalism. The magazine is packed with technique, fiber, knitting history and current information. Here's something really wonderful . . . It's a piece about Gerard Allt and the Knitted River campaign.
Knitters are contributing 15cm by 15cm blue squares that are being sewn together to make a fiber river. The product is being taken to all events visited by Water Aid
an organization working for clean water and toilets for people living in poverty-stricken countries. Very cool. If you're interested in contributing, go here and click on the Knit a River link.
Bless you sweet floozy.
There never was a good war or bad peace. - Benjamin Franklin
Posted by Anyone need some kohlrabi? at 8:40 AM