the pattyo

Okay … nothing really here. But you can go to Brandon’s site and visit him there. He has some very nifty design stuff there. He hasn’t been updating it recently though. Guess UCLA takes up a bit of his time. Still, it’s certainly worth a visit!

http://users.design.ucla.edu/~ruffian/
—–

The poets among us are so far from sane
and the time that they take for one word is a shame.
They fret and they ponder, they weep and they whine
for what might become one poor iambic line.
The authors among us are better perhaps;
they dump fifteen pages at once in our laps.

But still when a poet goes through authors’ words
they nix the majority, seeing absurd
or unneeded the adjectives weighing ten tons,
so maybe the poets are truly the ones
I’ll take as my friends; they are few I am told,
but the worth of one poet’s word surely is gold.
—–

***My state of mind

Today I purchased a boxed set of Simon & Garfunkel. I don’t know why, but I was in the mood to do so. So I’m listening and it’s making me sad and takes me back to my younger days. Somehow their music can touch my heart. Much of what I’m hearing is still so appropriate. When I hear them sing “shrouded in a mushroom cloud of death” I just want to cry.

And then there’s

Last night I had the strangest dream
I ever dreamed before
I dreamed the world had all agreed
To put an end to war

***Oh, but what silly poetry I write
(from the sublime …)

I was kidding around with some writing friends of mine (a group called SCUM: don’t ask!) and I wrote one of my 10-minute poems (I have 10 minute poems, 15 minute poems, and never finished poems):

Poets & Authors

The poets among us are so far from sane
and the time that they take for one word is a shame.
They fret and they ponder, they weep and they whine
for what might become one poor iambic line.
The authors among us are better perhaps;
they dump fifteen pages at once in our laps.

But still when a poet goes through authors’ words
they nix the majority, seeing absurd
or unneeded the adjectives weighing ten tons,
so maybe the poets are truly the ones
I’ll take as my friends; they are few I am told,
but the worth of one poet’s word surely is gold.
—–

***Another Day on which to Pray for Peace

And so I do. I believe in God. And I believe that God is in control. I also believe that I should pray. In fact I believe we are commanded to pray. So today, and the days to come, I will pray for peace, to the God of peace.

I received a message from a fellow college employee today. It was actually a message from a student and the employee had forwarded it on to some of us. I don’t know that I should post it at my oboe site since that’s more directly connected to the universities, so I’ll post it here:

Dear Faculty Against War,

Last weekend, February 22-23, students from 120 universities across the nation met in Chicago for the first national meeting of the Campus Anti-War Network (CAN). CAN’s points of unity:
1. No US/UN war on Iraq
2. End the sanctions
3. Defend civil liberties/ No Racist Scapegoating
4. Money for Education, Healthcare, and Jobs, NOT for war.

We also decided that Wednesday, March 5 will be a national student day of action at all participating universities, including UC Santa Cruz. We are attempting to bring thousands of students together in our efforts to prevent this war. Our campus peace coalition, Standing United for Peace (SUP), is calling for a general strike and urging ALL students, faculty, and staff to cancel classes, protest, and attempt to shut down this university in our opposition to Bush’s unjust war.

We ask you, the professors and lecturers, to cancel your classes and labs on Wednesday, March 5, or at least those of you who have classes noon and beyond. If you cannot do so, we ask that you not penalize students for missing class. We also ask that you announce this in your classes.

If you believe in the cause of preventing this bloody war, please do everything in your power to come together with all the students so we can oppose this war, not only as students and teachers standing side by side, but as citizens of America who oppose this war. Peace and Solidarity, Standing United for Peace Here is the link for the flyer and the events.

Please print this and pass it around to students in your classes, and please tell as many people as possible.

Thank you.

(This is “convenient” for me, since I don’t teach at either school on Wednesday. But I do support the students in this.)

—–

***A Good Morning

I had a most fabulous time with my “poetry pals” today. There are four of us. I love the other three; I can’t think of a better way to spend a morning. We talked about sapphics today. Maybe I’ll post some sapphic-type lines here later just to prove that I still remember the form. Time will tell.

Not all of us came with poems today. Some months are like that and that’s fine. But Heath had a most exquisite poem and I certainly hope that it finds a publisher. Go Heath!

Kelly, Carrie Elin, Heath … you are fantastic!
—–

—–

Together we attempt preparation. We study
and research, equipping ourselves for unknown
results. Cancer speaks in negative numbers–
of percentages, scores, grades, and stages,
as if some mathemetician is in control
of outcome. I long to pass this test, stand
in your place, take away all frightening digits
and replace them with positives, but no one
seems able to give me the answers. So we sit
and wait for the exam, not knowing
if this is the final.
—–

The two week trip finally amounted to this:
one long cry up to the top of Mt. Whitney.
Tears came crashing down it seemed, down,

as we made our way up higher, step by step.

Plodding in heavy boots, but lighter,
with pack removed, than I’d been for weeks,

still thick sorrow seemed to blanket me.

Armed only with a camera and snack
I followed as you cheerfully
hiked the treeless mountain. Looking back,
checking my progress, you saw my wet face.

Your concern was touching. “What’s wrong?” and

“Can I help?” but all I could do was shake

my head and continue silently to the peak.

The granite didn’t unhinge me, not really, but tears

are not easy to stop when their flow is involuntary.

Lack of oxygen might have been the culprit,

or maybe reaching a destination is the worst thing about a quest.
—–

I offer you my hand, a clenched fist,
as I offer you my heart: tight and hard.

You hold my hand in your warm palm
and gently, slowly, pry each finger up.

“Your fist,” you say, “is you alone.”

You smile as you entwine your fingers
in mine. “And now, is us together.”
—–

(based on Men at Forty
by Donald Justice)

Women at forty
still wear pigtails
and use roller skates.
They are just unseen.

When they rise early
to prepare the breakfasts
and bag multiple lunches
they pretend to be old.

In the middle of the night,
when small feet flutter into the room
and little bodies crawl into their arms,
they act unafraid.

They often play dress-up,
step into uncomfortably high heels,
paint on smiles and younger faces,
perform on private stages.

Sometimes, but only rarely,
they remember to call home,
and crawl into the arms
of their mothers’ voices.