The Blue Pitcher

that which may be filled and emptied

Month: June, 2008

A Poem, a Bicycle, a Bird

The Rider
by Naomi Shihab Nye

A boy told me
if he roller-skated fast enough
his loneliness couldn’t catch up to him,

the best reason I ever heard
for trying to be a champion.

What I wonder tonight
pedaling hard down King William Street
is if it translates to bicycles.

A victory! To leave your loneliness
panting behind you on some street corner
while you float free into a cloud of sudden azaleas,
pink petals that have never felt loneliness,
no matter how slowly they fell.

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Tweezers

The tenderness of my husband’s hands when he removes a splinter from my skin (finger, foot) is so graceful that it disarms me every time.

A Lovely Word


Advect (v): A horizontal movement of a mass of fluid, such as ocean or air currents. Can also refer to the horizontal transport of something (e.g., ice, phytoplankton, even heat) by such movement.

(Reminds me of July
which reminds me of seabirds
which remind me of you.)

Week 17

So, I’ve gotta say, last week’s post about the grapefruit scared the bejeezus out of me. To carry a plum or a nectarine in one’s abdomen feels doable–pretty even; to haul around a honeydew seems almost obnoxious! Fortunately, the folks over at babyfit.com sent me a fruitless email this morning, looks like the baby will be measured in mere inches from here on out.

Anyway, inspired by little miss mel’s entire line of belly shots, I’ve decided to start posting my own. (Yikes!). Here I was at ten weeks, going along my merry way (ladeedadeedadeeda).

And here I am today
(post-yogurt, Fiber One, blueberries, peach, tall glass of milk,
hummus, cheese, crackers and PB&J;
my appetite is voracious!):

As you can tell I haven’t quite “popped” yet, but I’m definitely doing the whole “thicken around the middle” thing.

This baby is floating in a cloud of cupcake frosting–and from the little flutters I feel–he (or she!) couldn’t be happier…

Summer Storms

I love when the day can’t take the heat anymore, and the sky just opens up with rain. Sunday, C. & I sat in the car talking and waiting out the storm; yesterday, when the rain rolled in, a friend and I found an awning at a little cafe in the east village, and we pulled up chairs, ordered peppermint tea and scrawled silly poems on cocktail napkins.

The sun shone as the rain fell, and I thought about when I was little and how Mama Heaton said the rain falling while the sun shined meant the devil was beating his wife. Even now, it’s the first thing I think of when I’m sitting in a sunshower. Oh, the devil’s beating his wife again.

Strange how we take the words of those we love and carry them as mantras–heavy pendants that knock against our breastbones as we make our way from one ghostly town to the next.

Longing #624

Today, I might like to be here:You?

Reading Re-cap

So…Sunsongs was a smash.
Barnes & Noble was SRO, and of course, the kids got me weepy with their poems.

Here’s Francesco, proudly displaying the final product:

Mr. & Mrs. Poetry themselves (yes, she sang!!!):
Ever-charming, John brought the house down with his rendition
of Langston Hughes’s “Dreams:”
And sweet, sweet Dana finished it all up with this beauty:
Dana

My name means
love.
It is a heart filled
with happiness.

Dana. Dana.
Say it.

It is small.
You can hold it
in your mouth
like
a delicious apple.

Dream Interpreters Needed

People keep asking me if my dreams are more exciting now that I’m knocked up. The simple answer: not really. I did have the dream about giving birth to a bear, but beyond that, they’ve been almost painfully ordinary.

Three nights ago, I dreamed my former student, Britta, let me cheat off of her for our Physics exam. Thanks, Britta.

Then, last night, I dreamed I was in a wild game of Pictionary. My word was “lion.” And lions I drew, over and over: lion faces and lion bodies, lion paws, lion manes. No one could guess. Finally, I drew an airplane and Africa and a jungle. The more I drew the further I got from the lion. I did that thing where you jump up and down and move your hands in circles to egg on the crowd. The bell rang; my time ended. “Lion,” I said. “Oh,” they said.

I can only marvel at what my subconscious must be working through…anybody wanna take a guess?

Water on Mars

Amazing Scientific Discovery

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(because once in every five thousand forwards you laugh)

Book Release Party!!!

Inspired by Pablo Neruda, my student in an ESL class at New Dorp High School wrote this poem in class a few weeks ago:

Ode to Anger

by Gulsen M.

Anger, black

with two mean eyes,

voice like an animal,

don’t come here.

Go away

to your angry world.

In this world

there is no anger voice.

Here it is just lovely voices

making you dream forever.

No.

No entry here.

Just exit here

for angry voice,

for two black eyes.

Just exit.

Forever and ever.

Go away.

You can hear it and many other gems at the Staten Island Barnes & Noble this Sunday at 2 o’clock when we release Sunsongs, an anthology of poems written by students from the Hungerford School. Hope to see you then!