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May 30th, 2009

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Of pigeons and poems

May 5th, 2009

What is it about small children chasing pigeons? They all do it, the pigeons always fly away, the children always try again. There are many small disappointments that make my son cry, but the escape of the pigeons has never been one of them. He just laughs and tries again.

That is how it should be to try to write a poem and fail: joyful in the running, laughing when the words slip away irredescent against the sky. We do the same thing, my son and I, though he does not know it yet. We chase after pigeons. Sometimes I catch one.

A beautiful day in the neighborhood*

May 4th, 2009

Sunday: buttermilk pancakes for breakfast, summer skies all day long, boys in a sandbox, and take-out pizza for dinner.


* The format of this post is totally lifted from Christina.


May 1st, 2009

Many of Bern’s charms are obvious: the fountain statues, the clock tower,

the long sweep of the Old Town.

But there’s always something else, too, something waiting quietly to be noticed. The cool, narrow Gasschens,

the shop displays,

the tram lines criss-crossing the city.

Everywhere I turn there is something to notice, on those days I remember to notice. It’s like this everywhere; one doesn’t have to live in a five hundred year old city to stop and stare (though I imagine it helps). One just has to stop.