25 January 2004 - 8:37 p.m.
Ampersand Project, January 2004: why can't you be more like your sister/brother? (This can be interpreted any way you like.)
Lea 'n' Nia
Lea was as rooted as her turnips and tubers,
while Nia clambered over their mountains
How hot the tears and electric cold
she'd brought to her mother her choicest prize
the goddess preferring milky juices
as crows devoured the meadowsweet blood,
To where did the a, the b and the c
Finally got around to reading last weeks Poetry Daily newsletter, and there's a selected-collected edition of William Matthews' poems coming out, along with a memoir by his son. And - hm! here's a poem on the blues. (For the morning meditation, Rev. Ward told a Mississippi woman's story about, amongst other things, her father shooting her piano after catching her playing the blues, and about the difference between escape and freedom. . . And the line in his sermon that caught me was when he said (QFM), ". . .and if you look back over your life and you can't find a single reason to sing a little bit of the blues, then than in itself is a reason to sing the blues, because that means you haven't let yourself love anything so much that it could break your heart.")
One year ago: "A nice aspect about being a dilettante. . ."
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