Utopian Turtletop. Monsieur Croche's BĂȘte Noire. Contact: turtletop [at] hotmail [dot] com

Monday, February 19, 2007

Presidents' Day today; I have it off, and so, as usual, I stayed up too late last night, looking up these lines from Ted Berrigan.

The heart stops briefly when someone dies,
a quick pain as you hear the news, & someone passes
from your outside life to inside. Slowly the heart adjusts
to its new weight, & slowly everything continues, sanely.

It's a section from "Things to Do in Providence." I hadn't remembered which poem, which is why it took so long to find the lines.

Sometimes these lines feel true, sometimes not. Mostly they do. Going to poetry for consolation. Finding it there. Not sure about that word, "sanely," though.

Last Thursday my beloved spouse called me. J. G., our good friend and neighbor across the alley, had fallen two stories working on a rehab house. I gasped. He only shattered his femur and broke his pelvis and tailbone -- "only." We visited him in the hospital Saturday evening; my first visit to one since my dad died. The 4-year-old was a good boy and raised the spirits of our 61-year-old friend. He got home yesterday but doesn't want visitors yet.

Yesterday my beloved spouse's cousin in Germany emailed: Her mother finally died after years of Alzheimer's, age 83. The last of my wife's mother's generation, the last close connection. We can only assume that it was a mercy that she died, but sad news in any case.

Before going to visit J.G. Saturday evening, we had gone to the Chinatown / International District for a celebration of Chinese New Year, and saw the Seattle Filipino Youth Drill Team perform intricate formations for 15 minutes nonstop, accompanied by four drummers and two additional percussionists, three of whom also danced. Exciting movement and tremendous music and exceedingly well rehearsed.

Grey day today. Suitable.
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