moon on tongue (poem) + music

{first quarter, the acreage, dec.25}

Happy New Year #2007-according-to-the-Julian-calendar, slightly after the fact, I know... As of late, I've been a lucky, spoiled cat lounging around sleeping/knitting/writing/x-country skiing/eating/playing scrabble whilst at my parents' house -- now I'm trying to organize myself for return to classes & TA-ing & thesis-prospectus writing, as well as a myriad other little things.

I'm not one for resolution-making... & really, January is not so much the start of a new year but a new term for me & my ingrained academic rhythms.... however, since a new term is regardless a good time to start things, I have been thinking of things I would like to remind myself to do. Things that have less to do with school & more to do with relaxing & being useful & social. For instance, I am looking for a place where I can volunteer with seniors. I've been wanting to do this for a while, but shied away because I was missing my baba so acutely. Now, I think, it would be good for both me & for grannies & grandpas that I did this. There's one place where they need Ukrainian speakers as well as people with knowledge of French, so this may be promising.

What else? Some exceptional songs, courtesy of Basia Bulat, can be found at what I think is my favourite music blog (Said the Gramophone). Fascinating music to be found there, as well as really delicious, evocative writing about the aforementioned music. But yes -- through that site I discovered Miss Basia, & her lovely Feist-y voice. (Which is both Feist-y & feisty, really). More of her songs can be luxuriated in here. They have such textures, all intertwined & tumbling & plucky. All the instruments together like rocks in a rock-polisher with her sweet voice.

Also, here is a poem I am making that is very much not done, but wanted to get some fresh air. (I've been having dreams with very vivid imagery lately, despite the fact I have not been drinking the allegedly 'dream potentiating' tea I gave to a friend for Christmas.)

* * *

[moon on tongue]

4 oclock dusk and the last light on cheekbones
frozen sharp as ruddy riverbanks shadowing scarves
over mouths now rough & red as elm-bark touching
in the coming dark –

now i’m home with the cold sliver of moon a tongue
frosted to the luminous gunmetal
of a sky licking & lonely it's

like waking in the middle of the night
in the light thick & blue & everything is
only the suggestion of its shadow
paralysed in sleep --

when i am fumbling around for something warm
like you
the old sweater with wool worn softer
than my skin, something i’d cling to, yes

cling to

so it’s easy now to be melted
by the littlest gesture, you reaching for my arm
like telephone wires old & derelict
& i know we’ve done this before
& maybe there are mothballs
maybe there are holes but you

know i am so grateful & i

would do it again now i
need something like this to fall in to it’s
so easy to fall in love with the familiar

(something to understand
when there is so little now i do)

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