heather simons

“In the Summertime” by The Rural Alberta Advantage

Frank O’Hara reads “Having a coke with you.”

Holy cow-goat. This is adorable.

“Yes. I rewrite my poems so often that I sometimes get mixed up about which version was ﬁnally published. I don’t want to let a poem go until I think I’ve got it honed down just to what it should be, and that involves all sorts of weird problems. One of them is that you overwrite it. You’ve got to know when to stop. Bach is the greatest of the human composers, but in my opinion Mozart is an angel. And one thing that makes him angelic is that he knows exactly when to stop. He knows when to shut up. And in doing that he gives you your own song. I think he is the greatest thing who ever … He is the spring. I think he’s an angel, I think he was an angel that came to the earth. And that is one thing that makes him angelic—he knows exactly when to shut up. And by knowing that, you sit there, and you realize that your own song is coming awake in music. He can give you your own song. Think of that! God I think that is miraculous, I think that literally is miraculous.”

— James Wright, in a 1975 interview with The Paris Review.

“You are so young, so much before all beginning, and I would like to beg you, dear Sir, as well as I can, to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don’t search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.”

— Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet, July 16, 1903

“On a very basic level, this song exploits my love for romping banjo and maniacally-strummed acoustic guitar and some very wisely-used, emphatic but decidedly un-melodramatic piano. It also nicely plays on my attraction to raggedy voices singing in urgent harmony about life and love and hope and pride and messing up and being happy and moving on. But it also dallies with my passing interest in folk that’s little meatier, a little meaner, with its bass line and kicky, walloping drum that both sneak in the back way and for a while seem kind of secondary to all the needy strings and voices pushing around up front. You’ll miss it completely if you’re listening on your crappy, treble-y laptop speakers, like I was at first. I mean, I love me some folky shit, but I am not used to it having a big back end, not used needing a subwoofer to get the true effect. And you won’t be missing much for the first part of the song, not until around two minutes and eighteen seconds in, when Marcus Mumford asks, for the second time, ‘Didn’t I, my dear?’ and everything falls away except that dark, creeping thrum.”

- Rachael Maddux, associate editor at Paste Magazine, on the Mumford & Son’s song “Little Lion Man”

Kodi

Kodi, my boyfriend’s dog, is sleeping in a plush doggy bed on the floor. I am under the covers in my own warm bed, tired and groggy from a long weekend of traveling. Just a moment ago I shined the light from my laptop on Kodi and saw that he had changed positions. He must have moved so quietly I didn’t notice.

These days it feels like I can’t make a single move without second guessing my decision. Or before I make a move, I consider every outcome, worry over the potential consequences, and exhaust the advice of friends and family.

And then there is Kodi, who doesn’t question anything. Not himself, not me, not you. He eats when he wants, sleeps when he wants, and he knows who he loves. And if he loves you, that love lasts forever. Even if you poke him in the eye by accident or smack him on the butt when he pees on the rug.

In an interview with the Paris Review, James Wright said, “I wish I could be a chickadee. But I can’t be a chickadee. All I can be is what I am.”

I wish I could be a chickadee, too, or a dog, for that matter. But I can’t. All I can be is what I am, and that means I have to deal with complicated realities and difficult decisions.

It’s not easy. But thank goodness there are dogs in the world to love us through all of our decisions, whether unfortunate or triumphant or entirely inconsequential.

Thank goodness for that.

Poetry Tuesday

so comes love

let it go - the
smashed word broken
open vow or
the oath cracked length
wise - let it go it
was sworn to
go

let them go - the
truthful liars and
the false fair friends
and the boths and
neithers - you must let them go they
were born
to go

let all go - the
big small middling
tall bigger really
the biggest and all
things - let all go
dear

so comes love

(e. e. cummings)

Under My Desk

Today, as I plugged a digital recorder into the back of my computer, I took a moment to rest under my desk and look quietly at my co-worker’s shoes.

It’s quite peaceful under there, staring at shoes.

Wouldn’t it be funny if I had caught the eye of another co-worker, also under his or her desk, observing?

I think so.

Oh, Joan. I can’t get enough of her lately.