Jet Fuel Review, Issue #6
Well, I still have trees on my mind. And there's still a sideways tree in the back yard. The maple, oak, and tulip poplar in the front are still standing. And I have a poem called "Aging in Oak" up in the new issue of Jet Fuel Review, "a high octane literary journal." Here it is, along with "Jumping the Shark," about a fall my mother took in Florida a while back, and, uh, Björk, and the tv show Happy Days, among others. Hard to explain how my mind works, but if you've ever been here before, you have a clue.
The oak I'm aging in is a barrel, and I'm wine.
It's a sad day, the 50th anniversary of the assassination of John F. Kennedy, and I remember it. The end of Camelot. It helped, last night, to see Spamalot at Community Players, local talents hamming it up, me laughing it up. Laughing is good for us. Assassination is not. Nor is assassination of character. Sigh, Facebook, shut up. Which reminds me, the host for Thanksgiving this year has asked straight out that no one discuss religion or politics. It's such good advice, and hardly anyone takes it. But she's asked, so I hope everyone will honor her wishes! I'd be grateful for that.
8 comments:
On this sad day in Dallas our ground is cheetahed. The last yellow leave blew down as the wind howled all night. Now they are soaked with cold rain on pavement.
Love the zebraed ground! Great poems!
I love you, Collagemama, and we understand each other. Thank you and Dallas and the weather for howling and mourning.
Thank you, Carol!
I like that request for no conversations about religion or politics, just acceptance of each other.
If I don't communicate with you during this upcoming festivity, enjoy your family, Kathleen
Thank you, and you, too, Marcoantonio.
Your poem makes me want to drink a glass of wine and it's only midday.
I have actually found myself not wanting to revisit the day of Kennedy's death much, it somehow seems sadder as we go along. But I did happen to hear a bit of Lady Bird Johnson talking about her own experiences of that day, and I realized that I never had a sense of her before. I felt she was someone I would have liked to know. Her compassion for Jackie was very moving.
Thanks, Seana. Yes, the human part is what comes forward for me 50 years later--whether it's the personal care for the widow or the communal mourning for our President or our way of life.
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