Whenever I look into a white rose, I think of this poem by Mark Doty. Well, I guess I don’t “think” of it so much as it just kind of hums through me…tell me where they end… BEACH ROSES What are they, the white roses, when they are almost nothing, only a little denser than the [...]
Entry for September 6: In which I philosophize and reveal potentially embarrassing details about myself.
But first, a poem. A Display of Mackerel by Mark Doty They lie in parallel rows, on ice, head to tail, each a foot of luminosity barred with black bands, which divide the scales’ radiant sections like seams of lead in a Tiffany window. Iridescent, watery prismatics: think abalone, the wildly rainbowed mirror of a [...]
The trouble with wildflowers is that they are so beautiful and brambly and sprawling that I can hardly stand it. What can you do? Picking one will not suffice. Even a bunch to bring home and put into a jar–it’s not enough. A patch of wildflowers makes me think of these lines from Mark Doty’s [...]