wife — a poem

there were these leaves that blew in the driveway

I missed your brown hands,

so assured

a rake.

 

 

small bright things, found objects, spring, $30, irony

The irony of American life from my grandmother’s era to mine.  My grandmother shopped at the best stores, my mother had decorators.  I got these yesterday.  DIY is the name of my gen’s theme.  We went to college for advanced degrees and there is nothing for us in America.  We are reduced to scrounging for anything decent.  Why is that?

I can understand how most of America feels right now about things made overseas.  Thirty years ago everything was made here, like say towels and linens and kitchen things and tools — everything.  Now?  Nothing is.  Almost nothing.  It’s sad.  In the interest of being an American female I bought these things for $30 yesterday.  Here is a picture:

I want it to be brighter.  I really do.  These things weren’t made here except for the bottom cushion that I’m going to put on a circular rattan chair I have.

I liked the colors and the 60′s prints.

People live under the misconception that all is well.

But it’s not.

Because the consumer economy is supposed to drive this country, only?  The average American who is no longer working isn’t part of all that.

Irony.

That is what is driving America in the moment.

 

organizing things/looking at flowers

I’d really rather take pix than face what I have to organize but, I better do the organizing.  Srsly.  Especially around the books, the papers.  My whole life is filled with paper, paper I have written on, paper journals, junk mail, things I really don’t even want to look at or look back at.  Maybe paper attaches itself to writers because we are never without it.

Anyway.

Got past the New Year, got past my BD, next is Valentine’s, yeah right.  Getting my own roses, srsly this year — I will.  Made a bouquet from white freesias and red burnished looking roses in an orange vase — they look nice, happy, flowers always make me happy, always — whether I planted them or got them.  Anyway, here are those — dreamy looking blurs and sharp realism…

Organization.  Something I was always very good at at work but no so much here — there is something fab to be said for it, tho.

Doing kitchen, doing the bath, slowly — paring down — has to regain my sense of self somehow.  I really do.  Trying to eat, will and can.

Walking.  My BoyBoy.  Helps.

He is the curliest!