Category Archives: books

ripe ol’ age

A little poem by one of my favorite poets with some present tense modification…



I [am] still slightly
fuzzy in shady spots
and the tenderest lime.
It [is] lovely, as I
look back, but not
at the time. For it is
hard to be green and
take your turn as flesh.
So much freshness
to [re]learn.

– Kay Ryan



Some things we do because,
others instead.

The result of action
and inaction is not
any less confounding
than that Chicken
who laid that Egg
who became that other
Chicken. Suddenly,
there’s a whole lot.
A whole new hen,
and hens
running afoul,
the rooster and the cock.

A Lark


A few of my favorite images excerpted from the Collected Poems of Philip


Where has the tree gone, that locked
Earth to the sky?


To a Very Slow Air

The cloven hills are kneeling
the sun such an anointment


I am washed upon a rock

A lonely cloud drifts in the sky.
I dread its indecision.



Your mind lay open like a drawer of knifes


No Road

To watch that world come up like a cold sun

Next, Please

A huge and birdless silence

Home is so Sad

That vase.

If grief could burn out

Heart lies impotent



connect the dots

Picked up a few more books recently. My bookshelf is getting mighty overloaded, but I can’t help myself. I, Debby, am a tree killer and what often feels like a lone dystopian resistor.

Of the new additions, I got another (my third!) collection of Kay Ryan. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out the turn of phrase “the palm at the end of the mind”. A title of one of her poems, I only know this phrase as the title of a Wallace Stevens collection — which I also possess in paperback. I wonder if she wrote this in response to him or in reaction to his poem.

Both poets are commenting on humanity as seen through metaphor (Stevens) and through perspective (Ryan) via the resurrection. The Christian symbolism is heavy, more obscured and abstracted in Stevens but that connection is made much clearer and more empathetic through Ryan. Symbols, biblical references, include the gold-feathered bird, palm trees, three days, etc. are not necessarily sympathetic to Christianity so much the fragile and hopeful state of being human. They’re both quite lovely, hope you enjoy.

Here the two poems, the first is On Mere Being with the  eponymous first line.

On Mere Being

The palm at the end of the mind,
Beyond the last thought, rises
In the bronze decor,

A gold-feathered bird
Sings in the palm, without human meaning,
Without human feeling, a foreign song.

You know then that it is not the reason
That makes us happy or unhappy.
The bird sings. Its feathers shine.

The palm stands on the edge of space.
The wind moves slowly in the branches.
The bird’s fire-fangled feathers dangle down.


The second by Kay Ryan more recently, is titled The Palm at the End of the Mind

After fulfilling everything
one two three he came back again
free, no more prophecy requiring
that he enter the city just this way,
no more set-up treacheries.
It was the day after Easter. He adored
the eggshell litter and the cellophane
caught in the grass. Each door he passed
swung with its own business, all the
witnesses along his route of pain
again distracted by fear of loss
or hope of gain. It was wonderful
to be a man, bewildered by
so many flowers, the rush
and ebb of hours, his own
ambiguous gestures–his
whole heart exposed, then
taking cover.


i came across this little tidibit. i found it so funny. joyce and hemingway these literary giants, despite their often serious and weighty subject matter, were silly men, too.

“get em’ hemingway!”