Friday, September 5, 2008

Friday Sept. 5th.

Last night was last night. I did not watch the convention. I had enough. I read all of the news reports this morning ad got all caught up and everything that was said and all of my favorite bloggers. Even with the foul language The Rude Pundint has some very interesting insight, The Daily Koz is overwhelming with all of it details and threads but worth every ounce of energy. Even the mainstream media was all over the lack of substance. I am glad that it is now time for the real part to kick in. I await the debates and look forward to hearing real policy and real ideas.

I had a
day full of paperwork and errands. I finished up wiring the rest of the lamps for my 3 Bell Jar fixtures, I stopped by the Bead Show that is at the convention center and made sure that Susan Nestor, Jane & Robin (Jane's Fibers & Beads) were all set for a relaxing BBQ tomorrow evening! Weary travelers always deserve a nice grilled steak with all of the fixin's. I look forward to an evening with the 3 of these awesome ladies. It is always a good time and I am sure that there will be a great deal of laughter involved.

This evening was a relaxing evening of poetry.

Ode to the Lemon
Pablo Neruda
From blossoms
released
by the moonlight,
from an
aroma of exasperated
love,
steeped in fragrance,
yellowness
drifted from the lemon tree,
and from its planetarium
lemons descended to the earth.

Tender yield!
The coasts,
the markets glowed
with light, with
unrefined gold;
we opened
two halves
of a miracle,
congealed acid
trickled
from the hemispheres
of a star,
the most intense liqueur
of nature,
unique, vivid,
concentrated,
born of the cool, fresh
lemon,
of its fragrant house,
its acid, secret symmetry.

Knives
sliced a small
cathedral
in the lemon,
the concealed apse, opened,
revealed acid stained glass,
drops
oozed topaz,
altars,
cool architecture.

So, when you hold
the hemisphere
of a cut lemon
above your plate,
you spill
a universe of gold,
a
yellow goblet
of miracles,
a fragrant nipple
of the earth's breast,
a ray of light that was made fruit,
the minute fire of a planet.



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