A recent post by head Lemon Hound Sina Queyras on Harriet, "The Lines We Carry," took a moment to list some of the lines of poetry she returns to again and again. The post and comments section was an outpouring of the right words in the right order. A thoroughly enjoyable bit of blogging.
It was a busy week for this particular blogger. My heart got heavy at the idea of trying to put together a coherent five-hundred word update. Some weeks are just more fragmented. Some weeks are lived in various lines. I'm always surprised that no matter how quickly one pinballs from place to place, from assignment to assignment, from nine-to-five or three-to-eleven or eight-to-ten-to-two-to-four-to-seven-to-midnight, the books we read, the net we surf, and the conversations we have and overhear always seem to yield their little gems. Language as oasis. Forget the long-haul. These are the lines heard or read this week, poetry and otherwise, that got me through this week. Period. I'd encourage people to add to their own in the comments section. It's Sunday, folks. Let's take a moment to rest and catch up over coffee:
My girlfriend just breathed on the window of my workplace.
In some regions, history is buried
"Just to be an All-Star year in and year out, that's a special feeling, but the fact that it's in Dallas is a bittersweet thing," Bosh said before the Raptors faced the New York Knicks. "Sweet because I get to play in front of my home crowd, bitter because everyone wants tickets."
One is always about to look at a film one hasn't seen before.
Give me rage.
-from the poem "Single woman on the death of her mother" by Heather Cadsby, from her collection Could be, recently published by Brick Books.