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Showing posts from January, 2009

Year of the Ox Resolutions for a Greener Conscience

My mind's green enough as it is, thank you. What these are, are small attempts to make my presence on this earth less toxic than it already is (and maybe to bring a few souls around to green living too). 1. As much as possible, I will refuse plastic bags when I am shopping in the market, the groceries, or any and every chichi shop with froufrou plastic bags. (Yes, dear Nash, even Harrods.) If and when I have no choice but to accept a plastic bag, I will reuse it until it falls to pieces. 2. In relation to number 1, I will always carry an extra cloth bag with me, just in case I am seized by the impulse of the century: to buy something! Anything! 3. When wrapping gifts I will use furoshiki. 4. When my destination is within walking distance, I will walk. 5. As much as possible, I will refrain from buying food with high mileage. (Gulp. Except maybe goat's cheese from Davao and, from farther afield, lamb chops, wheat germ, stinky cheese, and 72% cacao dark chocolate!). 6.

Give us this day our daily fictions.

I want to write fictional stories so bizarre that they could only be true. God knows I have the material for it fermenting in my inner brewery.

Three borrowed poems for a Soul that came visiting

This is the poem that I placed in my womb beside you: Freight I am the ship in which you sail, little dancing bones, your passage between the dream and the waking dream, your sieve, your pea-green boat. I'll pay whatever toll your ferry needs. And you, whose history's already charted in a rope of cells, be tender to those other unnamed vessels who will surprise you one day, tug-tugging, irresistible, and float you out beyond your depth, where you'll look down, puzzled, amazed. -- by Maura Dooley And this is the poem for after you'd gone: Red Onion, Cherries, Boiling Potatoes, Milk - Here is a soul, accepting nothing. Obstinate as a small child refusing tapioca, peaches, toast. The cheeks are streaked, but dry. The mouth is firmly closed in both directions. Ask, if you like, if it is merely sulking, or holding out for better. The soup grows cold in the question. The ice cream pools in its dish. Not this , is all it knows. Not this. As certain cut flowers