Animal Sit, Animal

I woke up this morning to Dr. Rybak’s voice and the cat’s meow. Dr Rybak—dream. Cat—reality. (Wallace Stevens would understand.) I was lying among supreme linens in Allie’s childhood bedroom, and I was lying on my back, down the direct center of the bed, my head comfortably lodged between the two, side-by-side head pillows. Figaro wanted food, five am. Continue reading “Animal Sit, Animal”

The Women Begin to Sing

In the house the women begin to sing. We hear the first line commence, beginning to swell as they take hold, and we rise and move toward the door, taking off our hats and throwing our chews away. We do not go in. We stop at the steps, clumped, holding our hats between our lax hands in front or behind, standing with one foot advanced and our heads lowered, looking aside, down at our hats in our hands and at the earth or now and then at the sky and at one another’s grave, composed face.

-William Faulkner, As I Lay Dying

If You’re Lost Enough

Make yourself up a cheering song of how
Someone’s road home from work this once was,
Who may be just ahead of you on foot
Or creaking with a buggy load of grain.
The height of the adventure is the height
Of country where two village cultures faded
Into each other. Both of them are lost.
And if you’re lost enough to find yourself
By now, pull in your ladder road behind you
And put a sign up CLOSED to all but me.
Then make yourself at home.

From Directive, Robert Frost
(1947) Continue reading “If You’re Lost Enough”

A Particle

I need to take a break from drawing parsimonious phylogenetic trees and hating myself for not developing a steadier, more strategic method for studying science. Current method: begin studying for an exam worth 1/3 of my grade a week before the exam. By twenty two years of age and after eighteen years of schooling, one would think that I’d have defeated procrastination by now. Continue reading “A Particle”

Revolution

Formidable you
Roaming, falling, burning,
Dying as you live and
Desperate

Stand tall in the frame of
my door
and the blue of your eyes
Fools me
like the space of the skies

Frames vanish
hollows fill
and I’ve never gazed so long into what I cannot touch
and I’ve never held so near what blinded me.

But night falls
like burning stars
and eyes close
like turning doors.

–dkp

Slow

“Gertrude Stein says that if you are way ahead with your head you naturally are old fashioned and regular in your daily life. And Picasso adds, do you suppose Michel Angelo would have been grateful for a gift of a piece of renaissance furniture, no he wanted a Greek coin.”

-Gertrude Stein, The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas