Would that I could throw out all money and pay for life's necessities in poetry....


"I can tell what I saw next; it was not a miracle.
A beautiful villa stood in the sun
and from its doors came the smell of hot coffee.
In front, a baroque white plaster balcony
added by birds, who nest along the river,
--I saw it with one eye close to the crumb--

and galleries and marble chambers. My crumb
my mansion, made for me by a miracle,
through ages, by insects, birds, and the river
working the stone. Every day, in the sun,
at breakfast time I sit on my balcony
with my feet up, and drink gallons of coffee. "

-From Bishop's "A Miracle for Breakfast"

A night of poetry reading and spoken word at Busboys and Poets: Perhaps the best night I've had in this city, and I held my breath for most of it. We went for moral support, and Mark was fabulous. Novice? I think not. But the other contenders left me speechless. The tension made my toes curl and I've come to think poems come alive in the author's throat, because along with words came out accusations and confessions and revelations. I could barely walk home I felt so lightheaded. And here is Tasha Jones, who I cannot even begin to introduce...


State of the Union
by: Tasha Jones

I have walked in the valley of shadows and death
I have prayed for the redemption of those I adore
while I bleed, while I feed, while I attain
I have cursed what opposes with bitter breath
I have consistently aimed for better and more
while I drink, while I sink, while I refrain

I have given everything I could of the nothing I possess
I have battled to take every offered gift back
while I pine, while I whine, while I complain
I have clung to every forgiveness without seeking redress
I have waged every possible war without making an attack
while I scream, while I dream, while I abstain

I have poured my life into every choice I've been given
I have flowed freely through the reality that escapes me
while I grasp, while I pass, while I extend
I have endeavored to draw more out of life and living
I have promised to be both sister and enemy to the sea
while I grow, while I flow, while I contend

I have longed for a redemption that hasn't yet come
I have ceaselessly been a reckless pawn of my heart
while I rave, while I pave, while I intend
I have been less to most, but more than enough to some
I have decided that it's far too passive to wait for a start
while I lie, while I try, while I wait for the end

I tried to grow out my nails in an amusing attempt to prove that I can be the girl with delicate fingernails. But I cut them, and remembered how much I love freshly cut fingernails. I bought sweaters and dress pants for sophistication, only to crave the afternoon change into jeans and a white tee. I bought makeup only to remember that I like my face without it. And here I am in Washington, DC, only to realize that I love waking up in Valley Center.

The Bright Field

I have seen the sun break through
to illuminate a small field
for a while, and gone my way
and forgotten it. But that was the pearl
of great price, the one field that had
treasure in it. I realize now
that I must give all that I have
to possess it. Life is not hurrying

on to a receding future, nor hankering after
an imagined past. It is the turning
aside like Moses to the miracle
of the lit bush, to a brightness
that seemed as transitory as your youth
once, but is the eternity that awaits you.

-R. S. Thomas

And it does feel like it was all a dream...


I'm just going to say it: I miss socialism. I stumbled upon this idea in conversation, and it's been in and out of my mind ever since. It's as though the more time grows between me and Spain, the easier it is to understand what I miss about that life. And here is the big one: I miss socialism. In a choice between greed and laziness, Spain chose laziness. Not better for business, but better for life. (America chose greed. Better for business, of course.) I know we have better hospitals and better doctors and better services, but there is life lost in all this betterness. There was a slowness to life in Barcelona that forced me to match its pace, and now I'm a bit frazzled at the way life in American seems to go at a sprint.

And in a broader sense I miss Barcelona - and really all of Spain - with an intensity that hurts sometimes, because it's made up of irony and growth and regret and change and experience and joy. I miss it twelve months' worth. I feel a little bit wrecked for American life, for Southern Californian life, for San Diegan life. I need cafes and the metro, I need to hear Castellano and the rest of Europe's languages, I need to feel lost in the crowd and insignificant....

And lastly, there have been these moments... when life seems to be playing her best card and I feel like I'm the only one who gets to see it... what are the chances that I'd be there at just the right moment? When will I ever go to a Danish Christmas party again, or have a house party at David's beach house in Sitges, or see the sun settle down on the water in Venice, or watch the Eiffel tower sparkle at midnight, or be with all of Barcelona on the beach at night for Sant Joan...I'm starving these days.

THROW OUT ALL MAPS. RIP THEM FROM YOUR BOOKS. RIP THEM FROM YOUR HEARTS OR THEY WILL BREAK IT. - ROBIN JAY JEFF

"Old Testament Israel had very clear laws protecting foreigners living in the land. Solomon, in an inspired prayer, prayed that God would answer all the prayers of foreigners, "so that all the peoples of the earth may know your name and fear you" (I Kings 8:43). Aliens were not to be mistreated (Exodus 22:21) or deprived justice (Malachi 3:5); instead, they were to be given land (Ezekial 47:22) and loved (Deuteronomy 10:19). The book of Ruth is about an alien - a Moabitess - who was included in the royal line of David and Jesus.

All this was an imitation of God's love to Israel, who themselves had been aliens (Exodus 22:21, 23:9; Leviticus 19:34). In fact, they were always aliens. "The land is mine," said the Lord, "and you are but aliens and my tenants" (Leviticus 25:33). As aliens who were blessed by God, they treated other people the way God had treated them."

- Edward Welch