I love Sunday. It feels like such a big day. Hours and hours spread out like a buffet. There’s time for reading and writing and looking up strange but true facts about places you’ll visit soon. Cutting self-portrait stencils that look nothing like yourself. (this is what happens when you’re impatient and cut from a photograph that hasn’t been altered first)
Making a mess on the art table.
Reading a good poem.
When things got hard
I used to drive and keep on driving—
once to North Carolina
once to Arizona—
I’m through with all that now, I hope.
The last time was years ago.
But oh, how I would drive
and keep on driving!
The universe around me
all well in my control;
anything I wanted on the radio,
the air blasting hot or cold;
sobbing as loudly as I cared to sob,
screaming as loudly as I needed to scream.
I would live on apples and black coffee,
shower at truck stops,
sleep curled up
in the cozy back seat I loved.
The last time, I left at 3 a.m.
By New York state,
I stopped screaming;
I stopped sobbing;
by the time I pulled into Flagstaff
I was thinking
about the Canyon,
I was so empty.
Thinking about the canyon
I sat on the rim at dawn,
let all the colors fill me.
It was cold. I saw my breath
like steam from a soup pot.
I saw small fossils in the gravel.
I saw how much world there was
how much darkness
could be swept out
by the sun.
This one’s by Nancy Henry, from Our Lady of Let’s All Sing.
Going HERE and taking a virtual trip to Paris.
And…finally. Listening to this song about 10 times. You better GO HERE NOW and have yourself a listen.