Working Together

by David Whyte

We shape our self
to fit this world

and by the world
are shaped again.

The visible
and the invisible

working together
in common cause,

to produce
the miraculous.

I am thinking of the way
the intangible air

passed at speed
round a shaped wing

easily
holds our weight.

So may we in this life
trust

to those elements
we have yet to see

or imagine,
and look for the true

shape of our own self,
by forming it well

to the great
intangibles about us.

The Ineffable

by George Bilgere

I'm sitting here reading the paper,
feeling warm and satisfied, basically content
with my life and all I have achieved.
Then I go up for a refill and suddenly realize
how much happier I could be with the barista.
Late thirties, hennaed hair, an ahnk
or something tattooed on her ankle,
a little silver ring in her nostril.
There's some mystery surrounding why she's here,
pouring coffee and toasting bagels at her age.
But there's a lot of torsion when she walks,
which is interesting. I can sense right away
how it would all work out between us.

We'd get a loft in the artsy part of town,
and I can see how we'd look shopping together
at our favorite organic market
on a snowy winter Saturday,
snowflakes in our hair,
our arms full of leeks and shiitake mushrooms.
We would do tai chi in the park.
She'd be one of the few people
who actually "gets" my poetry
which I'd read to her in bed.
And I can see us making love, by candlelight,
Struggling to find words for the ineffable.
We never dreamed it could be like this.

And it would all be great, for many months,
until one day, unable to help myself,
I'd say something about that nostril ring.
Like, do you really need to wear that tonight
at Sarah and Mike's house, Sarah and Mike being
pediatricians who intimidate me slightly
with their patrician cool, and serious money.
And she would give me a look,
a certain lifting of the eyebrows
I can see she's capable of, and right there
that would be the end of the ineffable.

"The Ineffable" by George Bilgere, from The White Museum. © Autumn House Press, 2010.

Comment: Another poem I snagged from "The Writer's Almanac". I found this one amusing. And I love the word "ineffable". I don't know if I've ever used that word in a sentence! I'm going to use it now all the time. It's more poetic than "indescribable". I love that idea of imagining the lives of others, even though we don't have a clue, based on their clothes, their age, their professions. We can imagine a whole story about them without even talking to them like the narrator in the poem. He's already in love with her, in a relationship with her, and he's probably only ever said "thank you" to her. Not only that but he can imagine their love affair, but he can also portend its unfortunate demise.

I wrote a really bad short story with the same concept back in college. It was about how these strangers who drift in and out of our imagination can be very powerful and actually affect our lives. Do we imagine them because we are desperate for something more in our own lives? Do we create drama in our minds because we lack drama in real life? Is it just something to do? Or is there really a psychic connection that we so rarely act on. Like that person you happen to make eye contact with on the train and you wonder why you both were compelled to look and you wonder, what if? It's that ineffable connection.

More thoughts on "A Display of Mackerel"

I realized today that when I commented on "A Display of Mackerel" the only example I gave for a real world example was this Black Eyed Peas public performance piece done on Oprah back in the Fall. For some reason it was the only example that came to mind. But today, listening to the church choir, I realized that there are so many examples where we shimmer as a mass rather than as an individual. In a choir for instance, or in an orchestra, or at a baseball game doing the wave or at a concert all singing a favorite song or in a movie theater laughing loudly at the same film. Isn't that the best when a movie is really funny and everyone laughs together?

I used to love being part of an orchestra. I was terrible, of course, and thank GOD I was drowned out by the rest of the instruments, but I really enjoyed being part of that sound. It's funny how our culture stresses individualism so much...really valuing "uniqueness". And yet it feels so good to feel part of something, to get lost in fellowship to put a finer point on it.

I've realized too that the reason why those examples didn't come to mind right away is because I haven't experienced them lately. When's the last time I sang in a choir or played in an orchestra or went to a baseball game (that could be because I don't really enjoy watching baseball)? It's good to have these types of experiences in our lives. They're joyful and make us feel connected. I'm going to seek them out more. I'm going to be more mackerel than inimitable individual.

A Display of Mackerel

by Mark Doty

They lie in parallel rows,

on ice, head to tail,

each a foot of luminosity

barred with black bands,

which divide the scales’

radiant sections

like seams of lead

in a Tiffany window.

Iridescent, watery

prismatics: think abalone,

the wildly rainbowed

mirror of a soapbubble sphere,

think sun on gasoline.

Splendor, and splendor,

and not a one in any way

distinguished from the other

—nothing about them

of individuality. Instead

they’re all exact expressions

of the one soul,

each a perfect fulfilment

of heaven’s template,

mackerel essence. As if,

after a lifetime arriving

at this enameling, the jeweler’s

made uncountable examples,

each as intricate

in its oily fabulation

as the one before

Suppose we could iridesce,

like these, and lose ourselves

entirely in the universe

of shimmer—would you want

to be yourself only,

unduplicatable, doomed

to be lost? They’d prefer,

plainly, to be flashing participants,

multitudinous. Even now

they seem to be bolting

forward, heedless of stasis.

They don’t care they’re dead

and nearly frozen,

just as, presumably,

they didn’t care that they were living:

all, all for all,

the rainbowed school

and its acres of brilliant classrooms,

in which no verb is singular,

or every one is. How happy they seem,

even on ice, to be together, selfless,

which is the price of gleaming.

Being in Love

By Chungmi Kim

Awakened from a dream, I curl up
and turn. The roses on the dresser
smile and your words bloom.
The red roses for Valentine's Day.

Like in a film
thoughts of you unfold
moment by moment.

I vaguely hear
the sound of your spoon scooping cereal
the water stream in the shower
the buzzing noise of your electric razor
like a singing of cicada.

Your footsteps in and out of the bedroom.
Your lips touching my cheek lightly.
And the sound of the door shutting.

In your light
I fall asleep again under the warm quilt
happily like a child.

Upon waking
on the kitchen counter I find a half
grapefruit carefully cut and sectioned.
Such a loving touch is a milestone
For my newly found happiness.

"Being in Love" by Chungmi Kim, from Glacier Lily. © Red Hen Press, 2004.

Comment: Not a very good poem, but it was exciting to see The Writer's Almanac send out a poem by a Korean American woman. I have to support my peeps. I do like the sentiment of the last stanza. His "gift" is touching. There is that point in falling in love when a small gesture like the preparation of a grapefruit means the world.

Manhattan

The last time I watched Manhattan was in college. I saw it today again. What a great Woody Allen film. Less endearing than Annie Hall or Hannah and Her Sisters, but still funny and heartbreaking. I love when he says New York is a "knockout". We should all be so lucky to love where we live with such intensity and certainty. Trust me, I wouldn't exactly describe Dallas as a "knockout". The opening of the film is beautiful. It's all kind of corny--sentimental Manhattan images, Gershwin pounding in the background--but it works. Isn't that why we love New York? The storied images, the black and white romance, the twinkling fantasy. Anyway, here's a line that made me laugh out loud:

"Chapter One. He was as tough and romantic as the city he loved. Beneath his black-rimmed glasses was the coiled sexual power of a jungle cat."

Triolet on a Line Apocryphally Attributed to Martin Luther

by A.E. Stallings

Why should the Devil get all the good tunes,
The booze and the neon and Saturday night,
The swaying in darkness, the lovers like spoons?
Why should the Devil get all the good tunes?
Does he hum them to while away sad afternoons
And the long, lonesome Sundays? Or sing them for spite?
Why should the Devil get all the good tunes,
The booze and the neon and Saturday night?

Bring it on, 2010!

Good evening, friends. Can you believe that it is already January 3, 2010? For me, it's hard to believe that nine years have passed since college, the first job, living in New York, first dating Noah, 9/11. Nearly a decade. When I first met N's family, his oldest nephew was 4. We were just in London visiting and his nephew is now 12! He hangs out at skate parks and has a page on facebook. It's just so hard to believe. I'm sure there are innumerable quotes about getting older and the silent indiscernible passage of time, but I don't know of any. I'm sure you all feel it too at markers like the year end.

Before moving on to 2010, let's acknowledge 2009, shall we. I'll list ten memorable moments/things and please do the same if you're feeling up to it (nudge, nudge).

1. The birth of my daughter L in May.

2. K, now two, really embracing and enjoying all of his cousins in both Boulder and London.

3. Visiting E in San Francisco on Valentine's Day weekend. Shabu shabu, shopping, cappuccinos, the De Young, Burma Superstar...we did it all!

4. Discovering the photography of William Eggleston and Stephen Shore, especially Shore's work Uncommon Places. I think about those images all the time.

5. Starting Off Hesperus and being about to discuss and share with all you lovely people.

6. Building a better relationship with my brother, and realizing the importance of family. When the shit hits the fan, family's got your back. It's not a cliche, it's the truth.

7. Barack Obama's first year in office. Personally feeling for the first time that a person who genuinely cares about our best interests is in charge. I believe he is an honorable, compassionate person who wants to better all Americans' lives.

8. Discovering the First Unitarian Church of Dallas. I really love that place. I don't know if we'd identify as Unitarians, but I feel so lucky and fortunate that it's here and a part of our lives. It's added a new dimension to my life. It's a safe place to think about everything important in life, much like this blog.

9. Traveling to London with L and K. This monster of a journey really has made any plane ride, whether it be to Colorado or the east coast seem like a breeze.

10. Seeing Wilco for the first time live in concert with N. They were awesome. They were perfection. It probably wasn't even a good night for them, but I have never had that much fun at a concert.

There are probably other huge (or HUGER) highlights I'm forgetting, but these were definitely memorable and meaningful moments of 2009. Goodbye, 2009. You were a good year! There were great highs and great lows. You sucked economically, but ultimately you'll always be a special year for me because you gave me my beautiful L!