Since almost everything opened yesterday, I have been scared to leave the house. It seems like a no-brainer that everyone mixing together is going to create a wave – one like we have experienced numerous times in the past year.
and tomorrow we’re going on the Israel Trail – mostly along the polluted beach. I’m still recovering from our last visit to the beach. It was just the beginning of the oil spill and the tar along the coast. We don’t seem to be talking about the identity of the ship that perpetrated the crime because we are trying to make peace with our neighbors, but we’re really in trouble because we’re not containing the spill. We’re just mopping up. What’s more important? Turtles or peace?
It’s been bothering me for years – the way Bibi has treated the democratic party for years. As a fervent democrat (I went all the way with Adlai in 1952) my issue may initially have been swayed by party loyalty, but every time Netanyahu spit in the face of the democrat presidents I want to throw up.
The past week was the worst. After Biden made it clear by waiting a month to call Bibi (even though his government officials had been in conversations with Ganz and other officials from months), clearly hoping it would affect Bibi’s ability to manipulate their connection for the coming elections, Bibi is trying to make book on this phone call. One thing I’m sure of, Biden won’t consult with Bibi on the Iran deal.
Last night, as the children picked tomatoes from our window sill in the middle of the storm, I was amazed by the power of this rain that was still much diminished from the night before. And then, this morning, when I opened the window, and saw that still more tomatoes had ripened, this poem would not leave my mind.
There came a wind like a bugle; It quivered through the grass, And a green chill upon the heat So ominous did pass We barred the windows and the doors As from an emerald ghost; The doom’s electric moccasin That very instant passed. On a strange mob of panting trees, And fences fled away, And rivers where the houses ran Those looked that lived—that Day— The bell within the steeple wild The flying tidings whirled. How much can come And much can go, And yet abide the world!
I keep getting asked why i don’t write sonnets, ghazals, villanelles, haikus. Today I got the answer from Tad Richards. It’s a great article and I highly recommend it. Click here for it.
YOU try talking about the holocaust. I’m having so much difficulty getting myself together to read some poems and talk about them today: If you want to come and support me and Sabine join up and click here.
so i got so excited about the partisans last night i went back to review all the information i had gathered years ago about my aunt. Yes, it was there: