I do owe you guys a Classic Saint Marty today. This particular episode originally aired on October 12, 2011. To be honest, I'd almost forgotten the poem in this post. However, the reason I chose to rebroadcast this post is that it's about life getting better, unexpected blessings. I need a little of that right now.
Saint Marty hopes you enjoy this little rerun.
October 12, 2011: Better Day, New Poem, Comments
My day has steadily improved. I saw several good friends unexpectedly today. Blessings. I had a really good teaching day. Blessing. Yesterday, a friend loaned me a book of poems by Sarah Vap titled Faulkner's Rosary. It's amazingly good. Blessing. I got another poem written today that I think is satisfactory. Another blessing. Yes, that's right. I'm doing the Oprah thing: I'm counting my blessings today, cuz tallying up my problems ain't been workin' so good lately.
I have also solved the whole dilemma of some people not being able to leave comments on my blog. Here's what you have to do if you're having problems commenting on any blog: enable third party cookies. Having said that, I don't know what the hell third party cookies are, but I told my friend Keith to try it this morning. He left a comment for me this afternoon. Yeah for technology. Another blessing, although I still don't know what a cookie is, unless it's got chocolate chips or oatmeal in it.
As I said above, I do have a new poem for today. It is inspired by the catastrophes of yesterday. I've also used Greek mythology again. Get used to it. I'm teaching mythology this semester, so it's going to creep into my work. I would actually venture to say that it is enriching my already rich output of poetry. Alright, I may have taken that a little too far. But I do enjoy having the myths to play around with.
Tonight, it's choir practice and band practice. The usual. I'm not sure if I'm sticking around for band practice, though. It depends on whether or not we're going to practice anything for two Sundays hence, since I will be Wisconsin Delling it this weekend. We'll see.
Saint Marty is going to go read some more Sarah Vap now.
I love this time between cloud and rain,
My student says as he walks with me,
Talks about Hades and the Greek dead.
We’ve had this discussion before, how
The underworld of Athens and Sparta
Wasn’t filled with lakes of sewage or
Infinite planes of ice. No, Hades
Was simply a place to go
After hard childbirth or fatal sword thrust,
A place of not life, the shadows of was.
All these people, accustomed to wine and grain,
Orgy and oracle, reduced to divine breath
And waiting, just waiting, like corn in a silo.
I drive home tonight with medicine on the seat
Beside me for my daughter’s eardrum.
My wife tells me how the nurse
At school looked in my Celeste’s ear,
Saw something like a cloud, a bright rib
Or jar, formed, ready to unleash
Rain and wind. But not yet.
Not yet. I drive
Not yet. I drive
Toward the coming storm, stare at the sky
As it darkens, the way my father’s face
Darkened before he shoved my sister
Into a wall. I move through this time
Between work and home,
A wreck of clouds and bullets of rain.
The mutter of water. I stand
On the shores of Styx, watch, wait
As Charon paddles across the waves toward
My unthreshed stalk.Confessions of Saint Marty