April 6th, 2010

ireaper, dance of death

NPM: The Daily Poem

In honor of the West Virginia mine disaster, I offer poetry:


The Fury Of Jewels and Coal

Many a miner has gone
into the deep pit
to receive the dust of a kiss,
an ore-cell.
He has gone with his lamp
full of mole eyes
deep deep and has brought forth
Jesus at Gethsemane.
Body of moss, body of glass,
body of peat, how sharp
you lie, emerald as heavy
as a golf course, ruby as dark
as an afterbirth,
diamond as white as sun
on the sea, coal, dark mother,
brood mother, let the sea birds
bring you into our lives
as from a distant island,
heavy as death.
--Anne Sexton




The Miner

Those on the top say they know you, Earth—they are liars.
You are my father, and the silence I work in is my mother.
Only the son knows his father.
We are alike—sweaty, inarticulate of soul, bending under thick knowledge.
I drink and shout with my brothers when above you—
Like most children we soon forget the parents of our souls.
But you avidly grip us again—we pay for the little noise of life we steal.
--Maxwell Bodenheim
Stoppard, words, communication

No Voice Calls

My cell phone, which rings with vigor and transmits texts with ease, is not so useful now for voice calls. Nobody can hear me speak, and vice versa. I had problems answering a call from a friend last night, but I had reason to think she was driving across the San Mateo Bridge at the time -- a place where cell phone calls can be difficult. This morning it was clear that the problem was mine.

I'll let you know when it's fixed. In the meantime, if you want to reach me, text me or IM me or send me email.