Tonight I made Pesto, put basil and oil behind each ear. I finished Rebecca’s book which was wonderful. I am always paranoid about reading someone’s book I know, especially if I like them but this did not disappoint. Tarantella was so Rebecca, in all the wonderful ways Loudon is Loudon.

I have been thinking about Suzanne’s post on her blog, how poetry is so much work, and commitment and yet few understand it is an art form or discipline. What do I mean by that? Well I can spend three weeks on a painting and tell someone that, and they may be slightly impressed, spend three weeks on a poem and the general population thinks you are nuts.

I found these words by Rukeyser tonight b/c I am still trying to get through everything the women has ever written.

Did you know Sharon Olds studied with her?

I thought about saying I would give up my left tit to study with her but in truth, I would give up my left tit to study with her, Celan and Akhmatova. I like my left tit. It is worth more than one poet.

Why Teresa Ballard writes poetry (in case anyone gives a damn) :

To enter that rhythm where the self is lost,
where breathing : heartbeat: and the subtle music
of their relation make our dance, and hasten
us to the moment when all things become
magic, another possibility.
The blind moment, midnight, when all night
begins, and the dance itself is all our breath,
and we ourselves the moment of life and death.
Blinded: but given now another saving,
the self a vision, at all time perceiving,
all arts all senses being languages,
delivered of will, being transformed in truth
for life’s sake surrendering moment and images,
writing the poem: in love making, bringing to birth.


The Life of Poetry…Muriel Rukeyser pg.41

Now I would give up my left tit to write like that. Or maybe both.