Weekly Edition #5
Asking for Directions by Linda Gregg
We could have been mistaken for a married couple
riding on the train from Manhattan to Chicago
that last time we were together. I remember
looking out the window and praising the beauty
of the ordinary: the in-between places, the world
with its back turned to us, the small neglected
stations of our history. I slept across your
chest and stomach without asking permission
because they were the last hours. There was
a smell to the sheepskin lining of your new
Chinese vest that I didn’t recognize. I felt
it deliberately. I woke early and asked you
to come with me for coffee. You said, sleep more,
and I said we only had one hour and you came.
We didn’t say much after that. In the station,
you took your things and handed me the vest,
then left as we had planned. So you would have
ten minutes to meet your family and leave.
I stood by the seat dazed by exhaustion
and the absoluteness of the end, so still I was
aware of myself breathing. I put on the vest
and my coat, got my bag and, turning, saw you
through the dirty window standing outside looking
up at me. We looked at each other without any
expression at all. Invisible, unnoticed, still.
That moment is what I will tell of as proof
that you loved me permanently. After that I was
a woman alone carrying her bag, asking a worker
which direction to walk to find a taxi.
I paired this poem with this artwork by the incredible Nigel Van Wieck because as soon as I read it, his rich oil paintings of people on trains and my visit to his studio to see them upfront was all I could think about.
Other poems I enjoyed reading this week: (Click the links to read the full poem)
"I missed him terribly,
though I could hear his even breath
and we had such long and separate lives
ahead."
-Supple Cord by Naomi Shihab Nye
"Because he did not write yesterday, today
he must write twice. Having switched on a lamp,
he must turn on a second lamp. He must not waver
in his intention lest he have to make a correction
on the opposite side: a man who, having fallen
on his left side must touch his right knee down
to placate the forces of equilibrium."
"It is hard
to pack for the rest of your life. Someone is always
eating cold cucumber noodles. Someone will drop by later
to help dismantle some furniture. A lot can go wrong
if you sleep or think, but the trees go on waving
their silly little hands."
-And Then It Was Less Bleak Because We Said So by Wendy Xu
"No one is exempt
and everyone’s pain has a different smell.
At night when all the colours die,
they hide in pairs
and read about themselves -
in colour, with their eyelids shut." -A Martian Sends A Postcard Home, Craig Raine
Recommended Listening: The Role Models Podcast Apocalypse - Cigarettes After Sex Hunnybee - Unknown Mortal Orchestra She Surely Must Know - West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band Harry Potter's Theme Song Played on Glass Harp Suhani Raat Dhal Chuki Na Jaane Tum Kab Aaoge - Mohammad Rafi
Links of the Week:
Happiness by Design:Stefan Sagmeister + The Beauty Project + Go watch The Happy Film, if you haven't already Bill Plympton Takes A Bite Out of Trump with New Web Series Rilke on the Lonely Patience of Creative Work (Currently reading) Adam J. Kurtz: Perfect Isn’t Better The Bombs They Carried You feel like shit: An interactive self-care guide (please save this link and keep it saved for a bad day) Toy Stories: Portraits of Children and their Toys Around the World