Weekly Edition #39
Artwork: The Bus by Frida Kahlo (1929)
Strangers by Laszlo Slomovits
A man is running hard
to catch the bus that just left.
It’s picking up speed but he
pulls even and raps on its side,
and a woman by the window
yells to the driver, who stops
and opens the accordion door.
But the man does not get on—
he points back to an old woman
who has not run a step
in a very long time
shuffling towards the bus.
Nor does he leave until he’s
helped her up both steps
then walks back slowly
still breathing hard
toward us who are
waiting for a different bus.
What can a group of strangers
do at a time like this?
A time in its own tiny way like
when Bob Hayes roared by them all
to bring the relay home,
or when Billy Mills devoured
the last 50 of the 10,000 meters
or when Joan Benoit came striding
into the stadium alone—and all of us
strangers stood up and cheered.
Other poems I read and loved this week: (Full poem in the link)
"Put down that bag of potato chips, that white bread, that bottle of pop.
Turn off that cellphone, computer, and remote control.
Open the door, then close it behind you.
Take a breath offered by friendly winds. They travel the earth gathering essences of plants to clean.
Give it back with gratitude."
-For Calling the Spirit Back from Wandering the Earth in Its Human Feet by Joy Harjo
"Tomorrow I will start to be happy.
The morning will light up like a celebratory cigar.
Sunbeams sprawling on the lawn will set
dew sparkling like a cut-glass tumbler of champagne.
Today will end the worst phase of my life."
-Tomorrow by Dennis O’Driscoll
"I will present you parts
of
my
self
slowly
if you are patient and tender.
I will open drawers
that mostly stay closed
and bring out places and people and things
sounds and smells, loves and frustrations, hopes and sadnesses,
bits and pieces of three decades of life
that have been grabbed off
in chunks
and found lying in my hands." -Poem for Everyone by John Wood
"I have no use for what she’s selling, but I
can count the freckles on her nose, the scars
like fat worms on knobby knees that ought
to be covered on a cold day like this, when
the wind is blowing and the trees are losing
their grip on the last of their leaves. I’ll take
two of these and one of those, I say, pointing,
thinking I won’t eat them, but I probably will.
It’s worth the coming calories to see her joy,
how hard she works to spell my name right,
taking down my information." -Fund Drive by Terri Kirby Erickson "let ruin end here
let him find honey
where there was once a slaughter
let him enter the lion’s cage
& find a field of lilacs
let this be the healing
& if not let it be" -little prayer by Danez Smith
Slothin Alive by Andy Kelly
Recommended Listening:
Forgotify (Discover a previously unheard Spotify track)
Mitsuko Uchida plays Mozart Sonatas 545, 570, 576, 533494
This Will Be (An Everlasting Love) - Natalie Cole
It Hurts Until It Doesn't - Mothers
Tim Ferriss interviews Neil Gaiman
Podcast: 10 Things That Scare Me
Links of the Week:
The Splendid History of Gustav Klimt’s Glistening “Golden Phase”
30 Ways to celebrate National Poetry Month
Also, I've been doing the #NaPoWriMo challenge this year, where I'm not only writing a poem a day throughout April but also illustrating each poem myself, stemming from my newfound love of Autodesk Sketchbook!
Check out my poetic/artistic exploits here if you like.
GIF by Caroline Director