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Monday, April 23, 2012

ebb and flow


T H E   G O O D   N E W S 


by David Yezzi

                  A friend calls, so I ask him to stop by.
We sip old Scotch, the good stuff, order in,
some Indian—no frills too fine for him
or me, particularly since it's been
                              ages since we made the time.


{the rest of the poem here}


I likely wouldn't have come upon this poem had I not taken these photos on Saturday of the weekend newspaper. (One of those things that keep me interested in this blog, for sure, these findings, findlings).  We'd finished reading it, and I was noticing my cup, and the colours of the paper.  So this morning, I started searching for a poem that wouldn't seem wildly random to go with these photos, and came upon the poem by David Yezzi. Maybe we've all been there in that moment - the moment when you're in a down and out time of your life, but that's okay, because you're fine really, and you're sharing it with a friend.  You're all in the same boat, right, the same shady part of the room.  But then the friend shares a piece of great news, and you're no longer in it together, the light shifts. And then you wonder, as the speaker in the poem does, is it a zero-sum game?  Does your friend's good fortune mean that you are kept from same?  Which is a pretty vulnerable and real thing to admit in a poem.

In the writing life, one often hears of the good news of others.  For the most part, I can say that I enjoy hearing the good news.  This is much easier to do when you're in the place you want to be yourself.  Besides, stick around long enough and you can see the ebb and flow of it all.  


The light on Saturday afternoon in my kitchen was lovely, clean and even.  


It's the kind of light that loves this white tablecloth, which turns into a sea of shadows and creases and lines.  (Mainly because I'm not the sort to ever iron a tablecloth).



3 comments:

  1. Who irons tablecloths? I don't know what to think about how tidy that paper is folded. I feel conflicted about that. That poem was a bit of a kick in the gut, yes, but real for sure. Lovely pix.

    ReplyDelete
  2. it wouldn't normally be that tidy, i promise : )
    thanks Lucy.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Whew! But, soooo pretty!! It was a good catch, my dear.

    ReplyDelete

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