Cami Park

Posts Tagged ‘Birds’

A few things

In Film, Music, Poetry, Prose on January 27, 2010 at 5:49 pm

Happy birthday, Mozart

Submit

In Drama, Poetry, Sex on January 23, 2010 at 6:46 pm

Submit to you —
could that be what you are saying?
the way ripples on the water
submit to an idling wing?

–Ono no Kamachi

Ain’t pretty

In Art, Drama, Music on January 22, 2010 at 12:18 am

Tom Humbertsone

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You will vanish

In Nutrition, Photography, Poetry on January 21, 2010 at 7:45 pm

On Leaving the Bachelorette Brunch
Rachel Wetzsteon

Because I gazed out the window at birds
doing backflips when the subject turned
to diamonds, because my eyes glazed over
with the slightly sleepy sheen your cake will wear,

never let it be said that I’d rather be
firing arrows at heart-shaped dartboards
or in a cave composing polyglot puns.
I crave, I long for transforming love

as surely as leaves need water and mouths seek bread.
But I also fear the colder changes
that lie in wait and threaten to turn moons of honey
to pools of molasses, broad front porches to narrow back gardens

and tight wings of friendship to flimsy things that break
when a gold band brightly implies, “leave early go home,
become one with the one the world has told you to
tend and treasure above all others.”

You love and that’s good.
You are loved and that’s superb.
You will vanish and reap some happy rewards.
But look at the birds.

Through this

In Art, Film, Music on January 18, 2010 at 12:07 am

Vodpod videos no longer available.

KNOW HOPE

Found songs

In Art, Music, T-shirt on January 10, 2010 at 1:19 pm

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10 eggs

In Confessional, Science, Sex on December 8, 2009 at 12:04 am

Windy, overcast & decidedly cold. Some sloes still on the bushes. Plovers sitting on the ground & crying.

10 eggs.

So very great

In Beverage, History, Prose on December 3, 2009 at 12:47 pm

I have a piece up at for every year in honor of the year good beer became mandatory in Germany. That never happened here.

Slaughter, atrocity, and foodstuffs

In Confessional, List, Prose on December 2, 2009 at 5:16 am

>kill author has a story of mine in their latest issue, which seems top heavy with slaughter, atrocity, and foodstuffs. Meaning, I fit right in.

Just to eat

In Music, Nutrition, Poetry on October 17, 2009 at 8:21 am

Rice
Mary Oliver

It grew in the black mud.
It grew under the tiger’s orange paws.
Its stems thinner than candles, and as straight.
Its leaves like the feathers of egrets, but green.
The grains cresting, wanting to burst.
Oh, blood of the tiger.

I don’t want you just to sit down at the table.
I don’t want you just to eat, and be content.
I want you to walk out into the fields
where the water is shining, and the rice has risen.
I want you to stand there, far from the white tablecloth.
I want you to fill your hands with the mud, like a
     blessing.