Wednesday, July 2, 2008

(after Monet's Water Lilies)

For years, he watched the day change
In drops of sun against water.
He said: to be seen as the light moves,
In bursts of red, greens of summer flaming on the lawn.
In Giverny, where he found his last subject,
He caught on canvas: a river waltzing with the sun.

Light restores what time steals,
But from winter springs the loosening of desire.
Now age and night invade his eyes.
The lilies stand silent in the darkness.
The dark trees sway. Even now he sees
Fires weaving in the particles of water,
Waves of sunlight locked within the leaves.

Sunday, June 29, 2008

Rock On With Your Bad Self

It was July 4th, 1976. My family was camping at the Westfield Campsite. It was a particularly hot day, and I was swinging on the swing set. Someone somewhere was playing this on the radio. It has become preserved in my psyche as the epitome of perfect childhood bliss. I swear, every time I hear it I have this uncontrollable urge to find a swing set.

C'mon, I know you want this song as the ringtone on your cell phone too.

Yes, the leisure suits are something, aren't they?

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