The local weatherman calls the conditions “silvery skies” and why not if it gets people out the door? In fact it’s grey as my uncle’s undershirt; grey as a circus donkey; grey as John Paul Sartre’s bathrobe. “Silvery skies” is the true representation of the weight of your shell. I think you know what I’m talking about. Bring on the leafless trees. We have all the light we need.
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Watching the president’s speech last night was so demoralizing. Where was the discussion of a middle east peace process? The environment? It’s clear that the GOP has stolen the lexicon–it’s wrapped in a rug in the trunk of a Lexus.
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Today in my lyric poetry class I’m talking about Gregory Orr’s work. This makes me happy. There’s a pearl in a dream. We can touch it. We can hold it in our hands long after we’ve awakened. We have all the light we need.
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Gregory Orr:
On the side of a bleak hill
we build our hut; windowless,
but filled with light.
Planet of the Blind 