It's cold again today. Not only that, but Brother Wind has returned full force, all sharp and metallic, as if it were still January. Winter winds are so mean. I am so OVER it.
I thought three days of poetry here on the blog at Candlemas might be enough to crack the ice in the heart of this long cold winter, but apparently not. Lucky for me, I've just received a new book of poetry, a collection written by contemporary European poets. This morning I've been pacing back and forth, reading poems out loud with a sharp, pointy voice, staring out the window through squinty eyes as if to say to the cold and the wind: GET OUT.
Of course in the contest of Reya vs. The Winter Wind, you know who's going to win every single time, oh yeah. Still, it's important to put up a good fight. I tilt against the weather as often as I dance in shamanic alignment with it.
So on this cold, windy morning in Washington DC, a poem. Yeah Brother Wind: a poem!! Take that!
SECRET AGENT
I took care of everything: the alias,
The hotel where no one would look for us.
His muscle, his being short and taciturn,
His smooth, brown soles were my idea.
The calm with which he did what he did
To force a confession out of me.
Shock, ice-cocktail, bamboo, false hope:
He was a master in the third degree.
When I left I'd sworn to what he wanted.
I had killed, betrayed, and lied,
And ranted more than he had ever heard
and agreed: our meeting never happened.
--Tonnus Oosterhoff, translated from the Dutch by Allisa Valles
15 comments:
I'm sitting here listening to the flags outside my window - they're whipping in the wind something fierce. The temps are supposed to plunge here & stay that way for a while. Sigh. Perhaps I'll shout out poetry too. But not at work. That would be frowned upon :)
Oh man that's so WRONG.
I feel this way by the end of our Phoenix summer.
breezy here today with a blue sky and promises of warming up to 61˚ but our last cold front of the year (so they say) is coming in. um, I could be wrong, but it might be spring!
I'm attempting to will Spring to come early, the way it's supposed to this year, through sheer optimism and hope. I'm going with the groundhog theory and he most certainly did not see his shadow on February 2nd this year, at least not in my backyard!
Just now, while reading a poem aloud, the wind blew the door open.
Grrrrrrrrrrrrr
or do I mean
Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
Fabulous photos today, Reya...wow!
The wind woke me this morning with the same thought...I cannot win against you, you cranky Brother Wind! He DOES seem to be intent on proving himself, doesn't he?
Grrrrrr AND Brrrrr!
Poetry is a brilliant salve for the cold irritation. Brava!
The collection is spectacular: "New European Poets" edited by Wayne Miller and Kevin Prufer, from Graywolf Press out of St. Paul.
Grrrrr and Brrrrrr is all I have to say for today...
Kind of says it all.
reya, i walked home tonight - twenty six below zero celsius. thin, metallic yeah and for a while i looked across the farmer's fields and there were all manner of shades of blue, and little plant heads poking through the snow and their shadows were well shadowy which was so warming. i thought about the little animals burrowed up and snuggled in amongst leaves and seeds and roots and wished the whole pile of them well. then i pulled the scarf up over my face and cheeks and squinted my way into the pale yellow of the setting sun. i like poets. they get underneath stories and push them up with their backs. steven
Steven, bloody hell. I bet you walk briskly in that weather, yes?
no hope that any poems, no matter how strong will beat back the icy winds here on the north coast.... tonight's call wind chills of MINUS 15! YOWSER!!!!!
warm hugs to you sister reya sunshine!!
YAY! Graywolf Press, yay, St. Paul!
Harsh poem and cold, cold photos: so beautiful together. Thanks for introducing me to a new collection of poets and poetry!
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