Kenneth Patchen

Going on forever now, I have been reading David Ray who reminds me in many many ways of Patchen.

Creation

Wherever the dead are there they are and
Nothing more.
But you and I can expect
To see angels in the meadowgrass that look
Like cows -
And wherever we are in paradise
in furnished room without bath and
six flights up
Is all God! We read
To one another, loving the sound of the s’s
Slipping up on the f’s and much is good
Enough to raise the hair on our heads, like Rilke and Wilfred Owen
Any person who loves another person,
Wherever in the world, is with us in this room –
Even though there are battlefields.

Robin Fulton

Today, I am paging through a few books of poetry by Robin Fulton. To me, he has always been "the guy who translates Transtromer" (and a shelf full of other poets I admire,) but I recently came across this poem of his in an anthology and thought I should take a deeper look. Googling his own poetry is really tough if you don't have a title to search. He's so tied to Transtromer that's almost always what you get. But, here ya go:

Something like a sky

Something in us has suddenly cleared.
Something like a sky.
Something like a still-life, alive.
Behind us, our footsteps and voices.
Behind all the walls, a wide silence.
The air is white and open, ready for snow.

Robin Fulton

This is from his collection Fields of Focus and it reminds me quite a bit of the Transtromer poem 2 A.M. And why that last line, "the air is white and open, ready for snow", gives me such a lovely shiver I don't don't quite know.

Mohican Resort

This weekend, we all went for an overnight stay at the Mohican Lodge. Here's the view, or a view, from out our room. With their awesome Stay for A's special, you get $10 off for every A on your kid's report card. Thanks to Whit we saved $50.

Here's an aerial view from the web site.












We were such good guests, the locals named a street after us.

Blistering Cold Freezes Blistering Heat

Blistering cold they say. Sounds weird, like cold fire.