afford me purchase of your maps
I was in bed last night by 9:45 and I slept through mostly. It was good. Taking care of a couple of lingering things at work might have helped, too.
I saw that cranberry bliss bars are back at Starbucks. \o/ They're the best thing ever! I might try to make them at home this weekend, if I'm feeling ambitious. I have a recipe, but I'd have to buy white chocolate and I'm not sure I've seen it in my grocery store. I suppose I could just use regular chocolate chips? I dunno. Maybe I will wait and attempt it at the parents' over Thanksgiving weekend.
There's also this cranberry and white chocolate ice cream I'd like to try, but since they still haven't gotten the KitchenAid ice cream maker thingy to work, I'd have to make it at home. Or I could be interested in a cranberry sherbert (or maybe cranberry-orange? or cranberry-grapefruit, like a sea breeze. I bet that'd be good) if anyone's got a recipe. I just really like cranberries, okay.
in other news, I gave up on the book I was reading (Uncommon Grounds: The History of Coffee and How It Transformed Our World) because it was not engaging me, and started the third God's War book by Kameron Hurley, which is much more exciting. The best part of having an e-reader, I think, is this ability to put a book down and have another one immediately to hand. (The worst part is not being able to share or give away books when I'm done or when I feel like someone else desperately needs to read something.)
Have a poem:
Chicago Day Lily
Left alone and watered less, it flowers
into the nightmare tarnished dreams I
predicted would come for me, too. Tender
me your loose change. Afford me purchase
of your maps. To grasp the centermost
spectacular of the lily is to think of the possible,
that this city misses you already, the expressway
of alleged serpentine delight awaits your ride.
This season allows itself the luxuries of clothing
askewed, seeing through these dirty tricks
we will do again and then once more. Prehensile
and filthy, the slickness of the nervous bulb
permits it to dream cyclically of the light above.
This genre of clemency is well-deserved, and
without it, we'd not breathe, humble Kansan
refusers of such a story. The absences are real,
decoys for a precious exit through soil that bleeds
hues of toothpaste and swimming pools, real
and missing. Sunshine is currency, vertiginous,
reminder of what we foretold this would bring:
predictable gestures, the nuance of the sound,
the grasping at whatever's easiest, in front of you,
take it, best and worst decisions, like sadnesses,
linger too long across this hesitant deep plane.
~Erica Bernheim
***
This entry at DW: http://musesfool.dreamwidth.org/518659.html.
people have commented there.
I saw that cranberry bliss bars are back at Starbucks. \o/ They're the best thing ever! I might try to make them at home this weekend, if I'm feeling ambitious. I have a recipe, but I'd have to buy white chocolate and I'm not sure I've seen it in my grocery store. I suppose I could just use regular chocolate chips? I dunno. Maybe I will wait and attempt it at the parents' over Thanksgiving weekend.
There's also this cranberry and white chocolate ice cream I'd like to try, but since they still haven't gotten the KitchenAid ice cream maker thingy to work, I'd have to make it at home. Or I could be interested in a cranberry sherbert (or maybe cranberry-orange? or cranberry-grapefruit, like a sea breeze. I bet that'd be good) if anyone's got a recipe. I just really like cranberries, okay.
in other news, I gave up on the book I was reading (Uncommon Grounds: The History of Coffee and How It Transformed Our World) because it was not engaging me, and started the third God's War book by Kameron Hurley, which is much more exciting. The best part of having an e-reader, I think, is this ability to put a book down and have another one immediately to hand. (The worst part is not being able to share or give away books when I'm done or when I feel like someone else desperately needs to read something.)
Have a poem:
Chicago Day Lily
Left alone and watered less, it flowers
into the nightmare tarnished dreams I
predicted would come for me, too. Tender
me your loose change. Afford me purchase
of your maps. To grasp the centermost
spectacular of the lily is to think of the possible,
that this city misses you already, the expressway
of alleged serpentine delight awaits your ride.
This season allows itself the luxuries of clothing
askewed, seeing through these dirty tricks
we will do again and then once more. Prehensile
and filthy, the slickness of the nervous bulb
permits it to dream cyclically of the light above.
This genre of clemency is well-deserved, and
without it, we'd not breathe, humble Kansan
refusers of such a story. The absences are real,
decoys for a precious exit through soil that bleeds
hues of toothpaste and swimming pools, real
and missing. Sunshine is currency, vertiginous,
reminder of what we foretold this would bring:
predictable gestures, the nuance of the sound,
the grasping at whatever's easiest, in front of you,
take it, best and worst decisions, like sadnesses,
linger too long across this hesitant deep plane.
~Erica Bernheim
***
This entry at DW: http://musesfool.dreamwidth.org/518659.html.
people have commented there.