The new US congress is still voting for its next speaker. From former speaker John Boehner, “What they’re really interested in is chaos. …They want to throw sand in the gears of the hated federal government until it fails and they’ve finally proved that it’s beyond saving. Every time they vote down a bill, they get another invitation to go on Fox News or talk radio. It’s a narcissistic – and dangerous – feedback loop.”
Still I have a few poems to read.
The Trees
by Philip Larkin
The trees are coming into leaf
Like something almost being said;
The recent buds relax and spread,
Their greenness is a kind of grief.
Is it that they are born again
And we grow old? No, they die too.
Their yearly trick of looking new
Is written down in rings of grain.
Yet still the unresting castles thresh
In fullgrown thickness every May.
Last year is dead, they seem to say,
Being afresh, afresh, afresh.
The very least you can do in your life is figure out what you hope for. And the most you can do is live inside that hope. Not admire it from a distance but live right in it, under its roof. From Barbara Kingsolver.
The kingdom of what is
by Joseph Fasano
Now you wake alone
among the shadows
and lie back in the fires
of the moonlight
When, you whisper, when
will I be rinsed of it:
this history, this bitterness,
this dust?
Let it, let the moon work;
let it show you:
there are moments
when your life becomes the darkness
and moments
when you rise up in your triumph
and moments
between one life
and another
when you lie alone
with no one there to know you
and to be the blazing changes is enough.
How to communicate between two cars? The light and the horn is just too simple. How to make it more detailed and nuanced, still fast?
Just received a returned package sent in early December 2022.