Thursday, April 14, 2016

Rock Me, Mercy by Yusef Komunyakaa

Rock Me, Mercy

BY YUSEF KOMUNYAKAA

The river stones are listening

because we have something to say.

The trees lean closer today.

The singing in the electrical woods

has gone dumb. It looks like rain

because it is too warm to snow.

Guardian angels, wherever you're hiding,

we know you can't be everywhere at once.

Have you corralled all the pretty wild

horses? The memory of ants asleep

in daylilies, roses, holly, & larkspur.

The magpies gaze at us, still

waiting. River stones are listening.

But all we can say now is,

Mercy, please, rock me.

Yusef Komunyakaa, "Rock Me, Mercy" from The Emperor of Water

My favorite tea cup that I found at Etsy. So pretty!

After two rainy days, my Roses are wildly blooming!

Nothing on earth is as beautiful as a red Rose...

This is a Knockout Rose...nowhere near as pretty as a regular Rose.

Brilliant yellow Squash blossom...

Sunflower painting by my husband.

Five Moonflowers, ready for planting.

2 comments:

Kelly said...: Your blooms are lovely and I'm jealous that you already have squash that far along!!

Ray's painting is beautiful.; April 14, 2016 at 2:12 PM
Marion said...: Thanks, Kelly. We really didn't have winter this year. It was so mild most of my flowers barely wilted. I'll tell Ray you like his painting. He'll be tickled. I appreciate you!!! xo; April 14, 2016 at 2:42 PM

I Love Lorrie Moore!!

“You’re not a poetess, I hope,” said the English geologist next to her. “We had a poetess here last month, and things got a bit dodgy here for the rest of us.”

“Really.” After the soup, there was risotto with squid ink.

“Yes. She kept referring to insects as ‘God’s typos’ and then she kept us all after dinner one evening so she could read from her poems, which seemed to consist primarily of the repeating line ‘the hairy kiwi of his balls.’”

From: “Birds of America” by Lorrie Moore, page 266, ‘Terrific Mother’

Miranda July's Best Book:

"Do you have doubts about life? Are you unsure if it is worth the trouble? Look at the sky: that is for you. Look at each person's face as you pass on the street: those faces are for you. And the street itself, and the ground under the street, and the ball of fire underneath the ground: all these things are for you. They are as much for you as they are for other people. Remember this when you wake up in the morning and think you have nothing. Stand up and face the east. Now praise the sky and praise the light within each person under the sky. It's okay to be unsure. But praise, praise, praise." From: "No One Belongs Here More Than You Stories by Miranda July", Page 11

A Dreamy, Drug of a Book

"The minute you land in New Orleans, something wet and dark leaps on you and starts humping you like a swamp dog in heat, and the only way to get that aspect of New Orleans off you is to eat it off. That means beignets and crayfish bisque and jambalaya, it means shrimp remoulade, pecan pie and red beans with rice, it means elegant pompano au papillote, funky file z'herbes, and raw oysters by the dozen, it means grillades for breakfast, a po' boy with chowchow at bedtime, and tubs of gumbo in between. It is not unusual for a visitor to the city to gain fifteen pounds in a week---yet the alternative is a whole lot worse. If you don't eat night and day, if you don't constantly funnel the indigenous flavors into your bloodstream, then the mystery beast will go right on humping you, and you will feel its sordid presence rubbing against you long after you have left town." ~Tom Robbins, "Jitterbug Perfume", page 240