Schwartz, Delmore. “The Beautiful American Word, Sure”. The Penguin Book of the Sonnet: 500 Years of a Classic Tradition in English. edited by Phillis Levin. NY: Penguin Books, 2001.
Ay, gaze upon her rose-wreathed hair,
And gaze upon her smile;
Seem as you drank the very air
Her breath perfumed the while:
And wake for her the gifted line,
That wild and witching lay,
And swear your heart is as a shrine,
That only owns her sway.
‘Tis well: I am revenged at last,—
Mark you that scornful cheek,—
The eye averted as you pass’d,
Spoke more than words could speak.
Ay, now by all the bitter tears
That I have shed for thee,—
The racking doubts, the burning fears,—
Avenged they well may be—
By the nights pass’d in sleepless care,
The days of endless woe;
All that you taught my heart to bear,
All that yourself will know.
I would not wish to see you laid
Within an early tomb;
I should forget how you betray’d,
And only weep your doom:
But this is fitting punishment,
To live and love in vain,—
Oh my wrung heart, be thou content,
And feed upon his pain.
Go thou and watch her lightest sigh,—
Thine own it will not be;
And bask beneath her sunny eye,—
It will not turn on thee.
‘Tis well: the rack, the chain, the wheel,
Far better hadst thou proved;
Ev’n I could almost pity feel,
For thou art nor beloved.
poem found on PoemHunter.com
It’s hard to believe that these diseases, that were once eradicated, are coming back, because of “freedom”.
Polio has returned to New York.
A home-grown case of polio myelitis has appeared in Rockland County, north of the city. It is the first in the United States since 1979 when the disease was wiped out in America. Since then, the occasional case which appeared belonged to a traveler who arrived here with the disease. The last one was a decade ago.
This week it was announced that the polio virus has been found in New York City’s wastewater in another sign that the disease is quietly spreading among unvaccinated people, health officials said Friday.
Polio virus is usually spread from person to person through infected fecal matter entering the mouth usually by food or water containing human feces and less commonly from infected saliva. Those who are infected may spread the disease for up to six weeks even if no symptoms are present. The disease may…
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It’s another quiet Saturday here at Chez Applequeen after two crazy supermoon nights. On Thursday night, Radar was possessed by such a full moon fever that he’s never had before. Usually it’s Bobby who gets touched by the moon. They were both insane. Last night wasn’t as bad but they were both up & running around for a good portion of the night. Of course, right now they’re both sleeping. I confess that I slept several hours this morning & I’ll probably sleep before the Bill’s preseason game at 4 p.m., although if I miss the game, it won’t be a big deal, because I’m not a big preseason person.
I’ve posted plenty of pics of sleeping cats so I thought today I’d dig out some baby pics of the crazy kitties. It’s nice to remember when they were cute & little & manageable.
When Bobby was little, he liked to hang out in the bathroom sink. I had a small round one in the apartment I was living in at that time.
Radar was so utterly adorable that I wish he had never grown up. Of course, he’s still adorable, that’s his problem. & he still thinks he’s a kitten.
Bogan, Louise. “Cassandra”. The Penguin Book of Women Poets. Edited by Joan Keefe & Kathleen Weaver. London: Penguin Books, 1978. poem found on page 343.
Teasdale, Sara. “Hide and Seek”. from No More Masks!: An Anthology of Twentieth-Century American Poets. Edited with an Introduction by Florence Howe. NY: Harper Perennial, 1993.
Rawlings, Marjorie Kinnan. The Yearling. New York: Charles Schribner’s Sons, 1939.
You know I said to Mark I’m furious at you.
No he said are you bugged. He was drawing Brad who was asleep on the bed.
Yes I said I’m pretty god damned bugged. I sat down by the fire and stuck my feet out to warm them up.
Jesus I thought you think it’s so easy. There you sit innocence personified. I didn’t say anything else to him.
You know I thought I’ve got work to do too sometimes. In fact I probably have just as fucking much work to do as you. A piece of wood fell out of the fire and I poked it back in with my toe.
I am sick I said to the woodpile of doing dishes. I am just as lazy as you. Maybe lazier. The top of my shoe was scorched from the fire and I rubbed it where the suede was gone.
Just because I happen to be a chick I thought.
Mark finished one drawing and looked at it. Then he put it down and started another one.
It’s damned arrogant of you I thought to assume that only you have things to do. Especially tonight.
And what a god damned concession it was for me to bother to tell you that I was bugged at all I said to the back of his neck. I didn’t say it out loud.
I got up and went into the kitchen to do the dishes. And shit I thought I probably won’t bother again. But I’ll get bugged and not bother to tell you and after a while everything will be awful and I’ll never say anything because it’s so fucking uncool to talk about it. And that I thought will be that and what a shame.
Hey hon Mark yelled at me from the living room. It says here that Picasso produces fourteen hours a day.
–Diane DiPrima (c) 1961
Taken from No More Masks: An Anthology of Poems by Women
Here in the last few days of the dog days of summer, the cats & I are tired of being hot & sticky. They are both hiding in dark places. I have the blinds drawn & the fans running at all times.