Marissa Lingen (mrissa) wrote,
Marissa Lingen

Week of October 10-16

One rejection, no acceptances. Whew, what a slow week. The mail hasn't gone, or at least it doesn't look to have, but if there's anything of interest in it, that'll go in next week's count.

I have accomplished remarkably little that's concrete this week and feel just as remarkably fine about it. Sometimes basic sanity maintenance is a reasonable thing. I'm going to poke at short stories some more today, but if I don't finish one, well, I don't, and that'll have to be that.

And just to be a meme sheep, here's a poem from Diane Ackerman's I Praise My Destroyer:

You Will Think This a Dream
Headline over an article about the invention of electricity, Ladies' Home Journal, 1915

Hypnotized, it leaps
through coiled metal
to drive cauldrons wild
in a parenthesis of flame.

Stroke the wall
and daylight breaks.
Twist a dial,
summer purrs through.
With pocket inferno,
light a cigarette
from the succinct chaos
with which the Universe began.

But in night's other country,
where time is mirage,
fire was an animal
whose gold flanks scorched
and whose galloping
devoured grasslands as it fled.
No one tamed lions,
no one dreamed of narrowing
frenzy in its flight.

How shall I explain
to my ancient self
the invisible fires
we train now as pets,
let alone the genie locked
in all living things?

How explain the hibiscus,
geranium and lily
thriving in tropical deceit
at my window, beyond which
the park lies drab and frozen?

In a landscape invisible
in time and space,
I can aim the enemy,
I can pipette the sun.
To the lily it's Africa--
rampant heat and showers.
But more than glass
protects the hothouse flowers.

(I picked this one because I thought many of you who care about poetry would have encountered many of my other favorites, or they were too long, or they only work in my head with Michelle's stubborn little voice rattling them off at an answering machine. Our friends warp us. Not always in bad ways.)

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