The Blue Pitcher

that which may be filled and emptied

Month: April, 2008

Wednesday, sunny

And even though the wind and rain knocked all the blossoms off the cherry trees, the world seems nothing but blooming. I have eaten berries and fresh yogurt and walked miles and been kissed. I have read how the whale’s heart beats only five or six times per minute and how the hummingbird’s heart beats one thousand two hundred and sixty times per minute, and now I will take a pen to my students’ essays and hope they send my own heart closer to hummingbird speed. God, I love it when the sun comes back.

Tuesday, cloudy

Today, I have done nothing from yesterday’s list.
Neither cried nor puked nor meditated nor yelled.
Strange though–
I still can’t decide whether or not I feel better.

Monday, rainy

Today I have:

1) cried.

2) thrown up.

3) napped.

4) forced myself to meditate on the subway.

5) stepped in a dirty puddle.

6) yelled.

7) eaten a pumpernickle bagel with vegetable cream cheese.

Now I will go to yoga.

Spring in New York

Cherry Blossoms:

Light reading in Central Park:

Hundreds of wiener dogs congregated
in a two hundred square foot area:

Triple check.

Recent Keyword Activity

“pattycake loves veggies sexy”

A Clean, Well-Lighted Place

I’ve heard it said that writers have the cleanest refrigerators. So intent are they on not staring at the computer screen that they’re standing in the kitchen, slightly chilled, hip propping open the door, running a damp sponge around the neck of the mayonnaise jar and (once again) viciously rubbing the red circle from under the bottle of Frank’s Red Hot.

Let’s just say, I’ve got a quiet day at home and a whole drawer full of old broccoli. I can only hope that by nightfall, my eyes hurt and my fridge (still) emits the most peculiar of odors.

And a Square of Butter, Please

Love Poem With Toast

by Miller Williams

Some of what we do, we do
to make things happen,
the alarm to wake us up, the coffee to perc,
the car to start.

The rest of what we do, we do
trying to keep something from doing something,
the skin from aging, the hoe from rusting,
the truth from getting out.

With yes and no like the poles of a battery
powering our passage through the days,
we move, as we call it, forward,
wanting to be wanted,
wanting not to lose the rain forest,
wanting the water to boil,
wanting not to have cancer,
wanting to be home by dark,
wanting not to run out of gas,

as each of us wants the other
watching at the end,
as both want not to leave the other alone,
as wanting to love beyond this meat and bone,
we gaze across breakfast and pretend.

from Some Jazz a While: Collected Poems, 1999
University of Illinois Press

Longing #423

A mailbox stuffed with postcards,
all bearing good news.

April Morning

You know it’s a good day
when you wake up
and you’re out of milk
so you slip on your jacket
to run to the deli
and you open the front door
and spring just engulfs you.

The air is perfect;
the flowers bloom;
the old man tips his hat,
and the deli guy beams.
Gonna be a beauty, he says,
and you nod your head wildly–
the fresh cold milk,
its own sweet promise–
an absolute beauty.

A Homerun of a Binge

We sat in the fat white light of Cici’s. Dad rolled up his sleeves and declared each plate an inning. By the time he got to the seventh inning stretch, he looked over at me, alarmed that I was matching him slice for slice. This was not a dream; this was lunch.

But you can’t eat like that, he said.

Oh, but I can, I said, dangling a pepperoni in the air. I’ve been trying to get him to go on the diet that’s not a diet for years now. My last resort: all-you-can-eat pizza for $4.99 and a little reverse psychology. You see, pappy, I said, this is what I want every day. I just choose not to have it.

Hmm, he said, grimacing as I sopped up Ranch dressing with my cheese bread. I never thought of it that way.

The game stretched on. Even Dave was looking full. In a final gesture of sportsmanship, I licked the cinnamon bun frosting from my fingers; Dad’s starting tomorrow! As we walked to the car, Joe patted me on the back. Taking one for the team, he seemed to say. Yes, indeed, taking one for the team…

Stay tuned tomorrow for: Other Crap-tacular Rationalizations I Make Upon Consuming my Body Weight in Cheese.