Sunday, October 23, 2011

Parts of Mary Oliver

I didn't drift off to sleep last night. Had too much working my mind over like Ali used to work over his opponents. I feel too sorry for them to mention them by name, so . . . I sought solace in werds. I started with Mary Oliver's Long Life. Reading her words, "When I was a child, living in a small town surrounded by woods and a winding creek--" my brain slowly unbunched.


It doesn't matter how often I read the chapter, the magic still repeats itself. Page 22 is where I open Long Life. Then I thumb to other dogeared pages . . . Like p. 77, "Dust."



I think M. likes letters. I think she would get a kick out of mail art. I wonder if M. writes letters? On page 11, Mary writes, "M. and I have plagued each other with our differences for more than forty years." I wonder if M.'s thing for envelopes is one of the plagues. 

I wish you could read the entire chapter. It's prose about the power of a letter. Letters matter.

Be well.


2 comments:

  1. LOL. Thanks elle. You are kind and thoughtful. The new muscle relaxer made me drowsy, so I slept most of the day away--came bedtime, I was alert and wide awake. Only one nap today, so I expect to sleep well tonight.

    I'm actually working on some postcards. :) Wishing you sweet dreams.

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