Reading from Sharon Olds’ “The Wellspring” this morning:
“I paused, and paused, over your body, / to feel the current of desire pull / and pull through me. Our hair was still wet, mine like a knotted wrack, it fell across you as I paused, a soaked coil / around your glans…”
It gets racier and even better from there. Why is it taboo to write about lovemaking? When I’ve written poems about intimacy before, it’s made some people squirm.
Finishing up my essay on Mom’s accident, which I’ll read at Told CLE at Market Garden Brewery on Nov. 9th. While editing it, I lingered over helping my mom put groceries in the cart on my lunch break from school. This morning I took three kids to Dave’s to get groceries. Emily examining the receipt in the car: “We bought Reese’s peanut butter cups?” Exactly. Just like I did, Nathan slipped stuff in the cart he wasn’t allowed to get.
Today Jonathan is carrying toothbrushes. Not one, not two, but three. He even has a disgusting, stained carrying case for them. If he loses one of them, we’ll spend all day hunting for it. Third child — reminds me at times of the homeless men with shopping carts obsessively piled high.
Picked up the guitar for the first time in months. What would it take to successfully merge poetry and music in a full-length show? Listening to Bob Dylan for clues and inspiration.