progress would be staying out of trouble. real progress would be not making trouble. not like u.s.

i was happy we watched two moodies without interruption and even democracy now! streamed beautifully though all the news was sad. tonight however we that movie about the evil dupont was a plague of stops and i was so fustrated i went and finished the book i was not into. anyway i know how the dupont story ends, or doesn't end: in criminal and murderous contempt for life. other than that i was blank and my hair looked like grandpa munster. and lulu was cute as a bug.

word of the day—debouch: 

to march out into open ground,  

pass out or emerge, 

especially of rivers, 

a fortress at the end of a defile, 

to pour forth from a narrow opening. 

to emerge from a narrow place like a defile into open country 

or a wider space.

 

 

igloo/hut falulu.

i like to see what lulu will do. when i hung a pacifier in a tree and she took it home the next day she went back to the same branch of the same tree to see if it was there. today at the igloo hut she crawled in on her own and then looked up through the thatched roof. then she went to try to chew something from under a patch of ice. when i bounced up and down to crack it she bounced her from paws up and down too.

little bear comes back.

PSALM

NoOne kneads us again of earth and clay,

noOne conjures our dust.

Noone.

Praised be thou, NoOne.

For your sake we

want to flower

Toward 

you.

                                                                              -Paul Celan

 

THE WORLD, joining

us in the empty hour:

Two

tree trunks, black,

unbranched, without

nodes.

In the contrail, sharp edged, the

one free-

standing spathe.

 

We too, here in the emptiness,

stand by the banners.

 

~Paul Celan 

i'm still blank today. i wonder if there's a memory virus going around. or maybe it's overwhelm and underwhelm at the same time. there's a certain nurture in the daily dog life, though, luckily. and the home life, winter lozenge. it could be worse, and it's getting worse in the world—but that's elsewhere, isn't it?. it's the not here we're dealing with. trying to. maybe blankness is protection for the wary mind. i always had trouble recalling people's names. i thought it was because of shyness. now i feel like everybody has it even the non-shy. is it true? i was going to say i want to write poems but i'm blank, but that's no reason.  i imagine paul celan wrote from a blank place of strong feeling. he was a survivor. he survived in poems. the thing i keep trying to remind myself is write from where you are. let's say life is a poem sometimes we can and sometimes we can't write. 

and the kid's losing her baby teeth.