by Louise Glück

You have only to wait, they will find you.
The geese flying low over the marsh,
glittering in black water.
They find you.

And the deer—
how beautiful they are,
as though their bodies did not impede them.
Slowly they drift into the open
through bronze panels of sunlight.

Why would they stand so still
if they were not waiting?
Almost motionless, until their cages rust,
the shrubs shiver in the wind,
squat and leafless.

You have only to let it happen:
that cry—release,release—like the moon
wrenched out of earth and rising
full in its circle of arrows

until they come before you
like dead things, saddled with flesh,
and you above them, wounded and dominant.



what a mule wants!

“What Do Women Want?”

by Kim Addonizio

I want a red dress.
I want it flimsy and cheap,
I want it too tight, I want to wear it
until someone tears it off me.
I want it sleeveless and backless,
this dress, so no one has to guess
what’s underneath. I want to walk down
the street past Thrifty’s and the hardware store
with all those keys glittering in the window,
past Mr. and Mrs. Wong selling day-old
donuts in their café, past the Guerra brothers
slinging pigs from the truck and onto the dolly,
hoisting the slick snouts over their shoulders.
I want to walk like I’m the only
woman on earth and I can have my pick.
I want that red dress bad.
I want it to confirm
your worst fears about me,
to show you how little I care about you
or anything except what
I want. When I find it, I’ll pull that garment
from its hanger like I’m choosing a body
to carry me into this world, through
the birth-cries and the love-cries too,
and I’ll wear it like bones, like skin,
it’ll be the goddamned
dress they bury me in.

an oldie but goodie!


new and noteworthy ..... ha!

"When fate gives you ackles, make accolade !"

Another from my best beloved, inspired by Jim Gottuso's comment regarding my recent accolades. Disclaimer: these awards are not earned or given by many, but sweetly made by one. So, sadly no, I cannot claim to be the bearer of the blog world's interest. I'm still just a mule, standing under the pondering tree, with a handful of GREAT friends - like you!



of poetry & pottery

To Be Of Use

The people I love the best
jump into work head first
without dallying in the shallows
and swim off with sure strokes almost out of sight.
They seem to become natives of that element,
the black sleek heads of seals
bouncing like half-submerged balls.

I love people who harness themselves, an ox to a heavy cart,
who pull like water buffalo, with massive patience,
who strain in the mud and the muck to move things forward,
who do what has to be done, again and again.

I want to be with people who submerge
in the task, who go into the fields to harvest
and work in a row and pass the bags along,
who are not parlor generals and field deserters
but move in a common rhythm
when the food must come in or the fire be put out.

The work of the world is common as mud.
Botched, it smears the hands, crumbles to dust.
But the thing worth doing well done
has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident.
Greek amphoras for wine or oil,
Hopi vases that held corn, are put in museums
but you know they were made to be used.
The pitcher cries for water to carry
and a person for work that is real.

by Marge Piercy



i'm psychedelicious !!!!

Ahhhhhh dear blogging friends. I have more awards than one mule deserves. Please take whichever award appeals most with you when you journey back to your blog space. In the meantime, I'm going to keep basking in all my mule glory. Haaaaa!



blog awards and bad audiobooks

You might notice that my blog is slowly being plastered with 'Blog Awards.' I admit to a wee bit of mischievousness in displaying these 'made to order' awards by my best beloved. He wrote a great post about blog awards HERE. I don't have much more to offer on the subject. I acknowledge the need for positive affirmation and a desire to 'share' a kindness with a fellow blogger. But c'mon - talk about proliferation! The BLOGIES ????!!!! As we are showing here, there are awards available for everyone, for every occasion. I'd rather you leave me a comment, sharing your wit, humour, point of view. And then fire up your favorite image software and generate a few awards to give yourself. Go ahead! You deserve the pat on the back !!

During my darker depressive days, I find myself unable to read. Now THIS is a true tragedy because I have always been a voracious reader. So I've resorted to listening to audiobooks. And since I'm feeling less than happy, I am heading straight for the ROMANCE category to make my selections. Apparently, I am starting to reach the bottom of the barrel, here. Listening to today's reading (author & title to remain anonymous), I noted that it took the book 4 hours to reach its first sex scene - and it's only a 6 hour book. This scene was made most notable by the excruciating climatic line: " Oh Chelsea, I want you so bad I don't think I will live through the night." It was a phone sex scene. The book took 5 hours to reach consummation, highlighted by gems such as these: "This is going to be good, isn' it?" and "You're so beautiful, I get dizzy when I look at you." Do people in real life actually say this stuff ????? Geeessshh!


I'm nominating myself for the Hottest Mommy Blogger Award .....;) I'm not sure exactly what qualifications I need to win this coveted blogie award.... But I am a mom. And one very hottttt mule. Mwahaaaaha!!!



true grit

I've been feeling pretty down lately. Pessimistic. Fatalistic. Ick. Lots of ick. If I could draw depression, I'd stick figure me standing in a space station airlock, with no space suit on. Salvation lies on one side of the doors. Empty, airless, nothingness lies on the other side. I'm stuck somewhere in between. When I get this way, I begin shutting down: communication, travel, phone, blogs etc. etc. My best beloved, he suffers for me and from me. Today, he drew a circle on one of my doors and wrote the word "Hope" inside of it. Then he told me to push it ......... ahhhhhhh: AIR !!!

Thank You.


Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune--without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

--Emily Dickenson


depression blossoms

Depression Glass

It seemed those rose-pink dishes
she kept for special company
were always cold, brought down
from the shelf in jingling stacks,
the plates like the panes of ice
she broke from the water bucket
winter mornings, the flaring cups
like tulips that opened too early
and got bitten by frost. They chilled
the coffee no matter how quickly
you drank, while a heavy
everyday mug would have kept
a splash hot for the better
part of a conversation. It was hard
to hold up your end of the gossip
with your coffee cold, but it was
a special occasion, just the same,
to sit at her kitchen table
and sip the bitter percolation
of the past week’s rumors from cups
it had taken a year to collect
at the grocery, with one piece free
for each five pounds of flour.

by Ted Kooser
from Delights and Shadows, 2004



on bathing

Taking a bath late at night I'm already exhausted
My head on the edge of a tub
I'm a weighty object that can't rise
Partly a stone
may sink any minute

excerpt from Taking a Bath Late at Night
by Nagase Kiyoko


demitri martin in his jammies !!



a mule-vy review

I love Dimitri Martin. I love Eugene Levy. I love Ang Lee. What's wrong with this picture ???? It's playing out soooooo slow. Arrrrrghhhhhhh!! (ok. the nudist theatre troupe worshiping a helicopter scene was pretty funny. Yes. I'm warped)



whilst viewing a movie

I'm watching a movie about blogging. There she is, on the bottom of the pix, the blogger. Back in 2002, Julie decided to cook every recipe in Julia Child's cookbook in 365 days. And she decided to blog about it over at Salon.com. I didn't even know blogging existed in 2002. I didn't even know what blogging meant. The movie is kind of funny. Well. A surprise. Art imitating life, imitating art, imitating etc etc.

Julie writes for a while before attracting any readers. Next we see her readers are mailing her food products. Friends are advising her to set up Pay-Pal on her blog. And the Christian Science Monitor wants to interview her. The scenes of Julia Child are amazingly lusty. Gives me a whole new appreciation for the gourmand. (not to mention David Byrne singing "Lobster Killer") !!!!!!

back to the show .....


attack of the barking spiders

from: the Shoebox

sometimes i just crack myself up ........
(still muttering 'bout may)


notes from staff meeting, page 2:

Thou Shalt Not Request Any Days Off During
the Month of May

(this includes the solar month of may; lunar month of may; all maypole activities ...)

Furthermore, said Commandment usurps the employees' right to a fair and bountiful life outside of and in spite of
said Company policies.

Mule: This All Hail the Company cr*p is SERIOUSLY hindering my love life. Muttering mutinously ......