28 minutes, bike stand
basement
After running four days in a row, decided to bike in the basement. Watched another Father Brown episode and had fun pedaling faster as Father Brown chased the murderer on a train. Before biking, took the dog for a walk on the Winchell trail. Before we got there, I looked up in the sky and saw a huge bird soaring high in the sky. After studying the Birds of the Mississippi River Gorge, I’m pretty sure it was a turkey vulture. Close-up this bird would probably not enchant me, but I loved seeing it’s wing span way above me. I stopped walking, looked up and stared until my neck hurt. Of course I briefly wondered what others might think of me, looking up so intently into the sky.
It is snowing right now. All the sun’s hard work, melting the snow for weeks, undone. No one is quite sure how much we will get. 3 inches? 5? A foot? Will it stay snow or turn into rain?
I’ve been working on a series of eye chart poems. Today I had a revelation. Sometimes images don’t make sense to me. They’re unformed. But how to explain what this feels like? Then it hit me. Sometimes images are only a cluster of dots, like standing too close to an impressionist painting–a Monet or Renoir. This sort of thing usually happens when I’m trying to make sense of a billboard image.
I love this poem by Jane Yeh. The overzealous/Cockatoo of her impatience/Flap flap. So great!
Bel Canto
BY JANE YEH
The opera
In her head
Runs with no interval,
A lot of people singing tunelessly
About the same things.
An overheard
Comment like
A rotting peach.
The overzealous
Cockatoo of her impatience,
Flap flap. The slab
Of blue behind her
Is a sea of
Her doubts. The squirrel
In her stomach
Trying to get out—
They say you have to be
Twice as good. They say
There are pills
For everything now. Enamel
Eyes to see all
The better with, my
Dear. Fur coat
For your tongue—
And, since it’s snowing in April, I decided to find a “snow in April” poem. There are many. Here’s one from 1941 that I like:
Snow in April/Leonora Speyer
I watched the blind attack,
The white invade the green,
I saw the green strike back,
A bough shake off the foe,
While on the ground below
The sharp young blades of grass,
A million strong,
Surged up and through . . .
The battle was not long:
I seemed to hear a shout,
And all the flags were out!