So I had bluebirds on my suet feeder day before yesterday--four of them! They were very beautiful--that dusty, powdery blue against the snow was fabulous. I got a boatload of books in the mail yesterday--books and journals that I'm super excited about. One is Kugelmass, a journal of literary humor. I got it cause I wanted to read Roxane Gay's essay about rejecting rejection, which is as fabulous as I knew it would be. She has a book coming out about being a bad feminist, which I cannot wait to get my hands on.
I also got Aching Buttons, a Dancing Girl Chapbook from Mary Stone Dockery. And the newest issue of Pleiades. Oh and the book I can't wait to dive into: With Robert Lowell and His Circle, which is a memoir of Kathleen Spivack and her time taking a writing class from Lowell with Sylvia Plath, whom I adore, and Anne Sexton. Should be an interesting read.
I'm really feeling this poem today.
This is the time of day we hear them coming back,
when the first sunlight drops to the field
like an animal being born, slick and shivering
where it falls. Their hooves grind against the earth,
wheat pounded in a mortar
with a pestle, freed from its husks and impurities.
What wickedness clings to me, it sticks
to the last. I will keep my mouth with a bridle.