Poetry and Disc Golf

I picked up an interesting hobby over the summer and find myself with a small bag of discs and an urge to throw them. Thought I would share a poem about it.

Freeman Park

The drunk his name is Bud, steps up to make
his throw: a God-damn backhand lazer beam 300
feet below. He shrugs still holding to the can
of beer in his left hand. He steps aside
as M. J. takes the pad. She breathes in deep,
she torques, unwinds from hip to head, exhales
sedated smoke that curls and rises up.
The fade is past the clump of pines, it lands
right next to Bud's. I move up for my shot,
still hoping to impress. Step, step, cross-step forward
I grunt as I let go. Wobbly at first
yet steady now, my forehand follow through
sshuck-clunk, I cringe, a ponderosa pine
26 feet above the ground, I guess
it's me who'll climb. Bud smiles, claps me
on the back and says, "all in good time."
A punk, the drunk, a stoner: disc golf at dusk
hole 10-par 4: four hundred fifty feet.

Another Early Morning

In preparing for my poetry class this afternoon I read a poem that spoke to me and my early mornings. It is by Marianne Boruch

no one in the library this early

so it's all sleep, talkative
books silenced by their covers.
And xerox machines dreaming that
one rare uncopiable thing. And computers
still pinned to their home sites. Gladness is
human: none of that. Neither
is there sorrow, or sweetness, or--
no--no jubilation. And just to invite
tears into this place, one needs a full life
or at least one afternoon,
the traffic blinding someone
driving straight into the sun: Officer,
I just didn't see it. But is it solace?
Here? A quiet, clean corner. A book of poems
no one has touched for ten years. I open it
to the middle, a poem not
particularly good, maybe an afterthought
added the last few hours
before mailing off the manuscript.
Because one line, maybe
that one....

I suppose, that at least on occasion, insomnia is my friend.

"Do not taunt happy fun ball"

I just can't help but wonder who else would be in trouble if all companies had to have disclaimers as extensive as R/X companies?


via the dark hallway

Chekhov, A Boring Story and a great class...

"No argument, no amusement or gave ever gave me such pleasure as lecturing. Only while lecturing could I give myself entirely to passion and understand that inspiration is not an invention of poets but exists in reality. And I imagine that Hercules, after the most piquant of his great deeds, did not feel such sweet exhaustion as I experienced each time after a lecture" (Anton Chekhov, A Boring Story (64-65)).

When class goes well, it is a singular experience of pleasure. Today was a good day in class.

Fun Size Snickers Bars

Maybe this is why I love the fall

My kids had a great time with the leaves and the unseasonably warm weather. I found myself wondering why I love the fall so much. After watching my kids play in the leaves today I have some idea. Yup...gotta be the fun size Snickers. (Anyone besides me notice that the "fun size" seems to be smaller each year?)

See if it plays...

via thedarkhallway

Hard not to get a laugh out of Will. Just needed a smile this morning. I am very tired with a ton to do, so I will keep the blog entry short. I enjoyed reading/lurking on several other blogs this weekend. In particular I enjoyed reading "fish without faces" and "swirly patterns". I forgot how much I enjoyed their sense of humor. I sometimes forget that they are the intelligent/funny ones in the the family. I would be curious to know what blogs others lurk on so I can give them a try?

Oh does they?

Does grammar really matter?

What would have to happen to add to President Bush's credibility?
via the dark hallway