How Would I Know

April 30, 2007


From Women in the Landscape Series

Steven Gelberg




You say you don’t feel like yourself

Does that mean you’re somebody else

How would I know

Oh you say you just don’t feel quite right today

Does that mean that you’re slipping away

How would I know

You might believe there’s a paradise

In the next hello

How would I know

If you don’t tell me so

If you wanted to go

How would I know


You say you don’t know what you’re doing here

Does that mean you might disappear

How would I know

You might feel that there’s something real

In the next hello


Melissa Etherdige




Mike Sibthorp


News Flash

April 28, 2007

24 Hours

Paul Politis


After the last week, I am convinced that viruses/bacteria are indeed going to take over the planet some day.

And, to think, penecillin, a bacteria, is what is helping me recover.

I would rather snort cedar, but such is life.

Back to the pillows….



Lush Undergrowth

Paul Shilleger

P.S.Do NOT send chicken soup. I have made 4 types of exceptionally spicy chicken soup since Monday. I was impressed with myself. None the less, I want fucking fajitas, spicy lentils, something besides CHICKEN. So, there.

Blog Resting

April 25, 2007

QT Luong

Leone Bay~Tutuila~American Samoa


{Shh. I hear surf susurrus)

Recently, I chose to remind myself that I am responsible for my own happiness.

I put one foot in front of the other, looked up, and opened my arms.

And, a flood came.

I am having an amazing life these days. I am busy with work but I dine on school nights now with friends, their kids who I love, on weekends I have kids to my house for our “it takes a village” dance. I have never birthed a child. I spend one weekend a month with my “bionic boobhead” friend who finally realizes that she cannot do everything alone.

None of us can.

Maybe this is why:

To be there for those who need me.

To be there for my need of them.

All in love.

I actually allowed myself a little too much in person connectivity. My biology literally requires time alone or my immune system drops. So, garden weekend was “shit am I sick weekend and why can’t the dog make me chicken soup?”

I think, given that I have no bathtub, (which I consider a global crisis), acetaminophen is a fine thing for functionality. See, I had to make the chicken soup!

I am about to let go of teaching, live on even less money, and learn to exercise and be a graduate student. I am scared shitless.

I need to leave Nebraska. I cannot leave; money is not.

I found a program in Colorado with a summer sessions and online work. I have to take 6 credits a term so I can go in debt.

Did I say I am scared shitless?

I thought you would want to know that part.

Time to make curry shrimp and read my trashy fall asleep mystery.

Good resting……







Women in Landscape


Steven Gelberg


April 12, 2007

Ahmed Al Safi



Pale hands I loved beside the Shalimar
—Laurence Hope


Where are you now? Who lies beneath your spell

before you agonize him in farewell tonight?

Pale hands that once loved me beside the Shalimar:

Whom else from rapture’s road will you expel tonight?


Those “Fabrics of Cashmere—” “to make Me beautiful—”

“Trinket”—to gem—”Me to adorn—How—tell”—tonight?


I beg for haven: Prisons, let open your gates—

A refugee from Belief seeks a cell tonight.


Executioners near the woman at the window.

Damn you, Elijah, I’ll bless Jezebel tonight.


Lord, cried out the idols, Don’t let us be broken,

Only we can convert the infidel tonight.


Has God’s vintage loneliness turned to vinegar?

He’s poured rust into the Sacred Well tonight.


In the heart’s veined temple all statues have been smashed.

No priest in saffron’s left to toll its knell tonight.


He’s freed some fire from ice, in pity for Heaven;

he’s left open—for God—the doors of Hell tonight.


And I, Shahid, only am escaped to tell thee—

God sobs in my arms. Call me Ishmael tonight.


Agha Shahid Ali


From :
The Country Without A Post Office
(W.W. Norton and Co., 1997)





BJ Adams

This World

April 12, 2007


Mark Esposito



This World

in this world,
holding all i am,

alive i await
movement towards

welcoming faith
full love.

lost in daily grinds,
magical moments,

touched only in

in my box
i hold trinkets,

crystals of me,
formed eons ago,

told to sparkle
for one

who would seek me
in all my infinitesimal particles.




Women in Nature

Steven Gelberg


Mark Esposito



The Song of Songs, which is Solomon’s.

“Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth,
for your love is better than wine.

Because of the fragrance of your goodly oils, your
name is ‘oil poured forth.’ Therefore, the maidens loved you.

Draw me, we will run after you; the king brought me
to his chambers. We will rejoice and be glad in you. We will recall your love
more fragrant than wine; they have loved you sincerely.

I am black but comely, O daughters of Jerusalem!
Like the tents of Kedar, like the curtains of Solomon.

Do not look upon me [disdainfully] because I am
swarthy, for the sun has gazed upon me; my mother’s sons were incensed against
me; they made me a keeper of the vineyards; my own vineyard I did not keep.



Pilgrimage to India

James Gritz


“If you do not know, O fairest of women, go
your way in the footsteps of the flocks and pasture your kids beside the
shepherds’ dwellings.

At the gathering of the steeds of Pharaoh’s
chariots have I silenced you, my beloved.

Your cheeks are comely with rows, your neck with

We will make you rows of gold with studs of

“While the king was still at his table, my
spikenard gave forth its fragrance.

A bundle of myrrh is my beloved to me; between my
breasts he shall lie.

A cluster of henna-flowers is my beloved to me, in
the vineyards of Ein-Gedi.”

“Behold, you are comely, my beloved; behold,
you are comely; your eyes are like doves.”

“Behold, you are comely, my beloved, yea
pleasant; also our couch is leafy.

The beams of our houses are cedars; our corridors
are cypresses.”



Nature Study

Steven Gelberg





Judaica Press Complete Tanach




Nine Things

April 6, 2007



Steven Gelberg


It’s night

and a numbered beauty
lapses at the wind,

chortles with the
branches of a tree,




Angor Wat Monk in Temple at Buddha’s Feet


James Gritz



plays shadow dance
with a dead kite,

cajoles affection
from falling leaves,

and knows four
other things.

One is the color
of your hair.


Richard Brautigan




Image 24

Darek Banasik







April 5, 2007



Photo by KyerPhotography.Com



I ASKED the professors who teach the meaning of life to tell

me what is happiness.

And I went to famous executives who boss the work of

thousands of men.

They all shook their heads and gave me a smile as though

I was trying to fool with them

And then one Sunday afternoon I wandered out along

the Desplaines river

And I saw a crowd of Hungarians under the trees with

their women and children and a keg of beer and an


Carl Sandburg





On The Beach

Allan O’Marra






Bootilicious Boots!

April 3, 2007




Check these babies out!
Garden and mud-luscious mucking here I come!

Woo hoo!

And, I finally learned
that men’s tube socks are not found in sock and hosiery. Jeesh.

Hunting the Tube Sock

by kimsmith.

Be there or be square!


PS My boots are not nearly this nice or expensive. But then, thes boots are not on my feet. See?




Edward Gordon