Saturday, May 15, 2010

Moving today!!

A funny thing happened today - I accidentally composed a poem by saying something whilst cleaning up my old apartment. (yes, whilst - a word that I feel is wrongfully obsolete.)

This is something that Tom Bombodil did all the time. Everything he says in the Lord of the Rings is in meter.

Spontaneus couplet (spoken whilst moving)

An apple peeler part!
Left on the floor!
I should take it to the new place
(just to make sure)

Saturday, May 08, 2010

Darn it darn it darn it!

...I want to blog. I want to tweet. I really do. It's killing me here - killing me! 
There's so much going on in my life and in the world at large that I could pontificate about - the joys, perils and hilarities of having a baby in the thoughts on the ill-thought-out Arizona immigration law, and the equally ill-thought-out response of the U.S. Bishops to it (particularly Cardinal Mahoney)....some thoughts on technology, the iPad, Windows 7....some thoughts on the upcoming changes in the mass (how many of you know I used to be director of Liturgy for a parish?)...and, of course, the "health care" bill debacle. 

But I can't. I got a book to write. John Paul 2 High Book 2. It's almost done - I can feel it. It's also a lot of work. Writing a book is very time-consuming and I have less time than ever. So I got to keep plugging on. 

Incidentally - if you haven't read Book I and Book II -- read them! They're very, very good. Seriously. I wrote Book I and two other guys wrote Book II. And in case you're thinking Book II isn't as good as Book I - it's better. It's truly the Empire Strikes Back to my Star Wars. So read them! Puh-leeeeze. 
Buy Book I here and Book II here.  We're talking 10 bucks. You can afford it. You can read 1st chapters of each at the official website

I feel badly about leaving you all with nothing more than my incoherent whinings, so here's a poem. I wrote it back in college and it was published once in some obscure poetry journal. Hope you enjoy: 

On Her Feet

Perhaps it would be indiscreet to talk
about her feet. Don't laugh! It's ludicrous,
I know. So crass to dignify her walk;
ridiculous! But to be serious,
perhaps this farce would speak more than my words
For I could write for pages on the curve
of ankles and swelling calves, the toes uncurled
half-budding, quiet, groping on the floor,
embracing. When she wears a pair of jeans,
they peep like kitten's heads out of the blue
encaged in sandals, white in brown on green
The grass blades filter off an emerald hue,
which tints her skin and springs across her knees
And sets at play a surge of vibrancies.