an almost-not-there song
so today was actually really nice despite the fact that i spent four hours doing calculus and was at school for a total of eight hours. this afternoon i spent a long time at the andover book store and i bough this book of poetry by this man who lives sort of near me in vermont. there is always poetry in the newspaper up there and the best stuff tends to be his. it is really nice, in a vermontish way. i walked back to my car the long way in the misty rain through all of these residential streets and it was really beautiful. the sidewalks were covered in colorful tree things.
i bought halvah for dinner and it was delicious and then went to teddie’s. it was a little overwhelming at first because i had just spent four hours reading, but overall it was nice. i am really going to miss them next year. i doubt i am going to be able to find people to lie on a couch with me every wednesday and hold hands with me and talk about ridiculous things.
here is a poem by that man. sorry that it is wintery. winter is so awful in vermont that i can’t really blame him for writing about it a lot.
Another Winter Night - David Budbill
Outside the wind howls,
the snow blows, the temperature’s
below zero. Here inside
the room is warm, the candles make a glow,
the woodstove tics, the teapot sings
an almost-not-there song.
We eat our dinner on the couch
pressed up against each other:
rice and dal and warm chapattis,
then strech out and each take a corner
of the couch. I put my left foot high up
on the inside of her thigh.
i bought halvah for dinner and it was delicious and then went to teddie’s. it was a little overwhelming at first because i had just spent four hours reading, but overall it was nice. i am really going to miss them next year. i doubt i am going to be able to find people to lie on a couch with me every wednesday and hold hands with me and talk about ridiculous things.
here is a poem by that man. sorry that it is wintery. winter is so awful in vermont that i can’t really blame him for writing about it a lot.
Another Winter Night - David Budbill
Outside the wind howls,
the snow blows, the temperature’s
below zero. Here inside
the room is warm, the candles make a glow,
the woodstove tics, the teapot sings
an almost-not-there song.
We eat our dinner on the couch
pressed up against each other:
rice and dal and warm chapattis,
then strech out and each take a corner
of the couch. I put my left foot high up
on the inside of her thigh.