harvester of hearts

Dear Interwebs,

We made a song. It's over on the right. You might or might not have to scroll around to find it.

It's called "Chemistry" and we hope you like it. This version will get replaced with one that has fewer screwups in the next few days. So, it's kind of a collector's item... if you're a collector of screwups.

Rocky charmed several chumps on our walk today. He's really just so very cute. At least women seem to think so. We ran far this morning, so my hope is that he sleeps for the rest of the night without too much snoring. Who knows? Tomorrow might be his last day with us.

Go look at Abbie's blog (you won't regret it).

Happy birthday to my dear father. Good night to all of you.




Nick and the Candlestick


I am a miner. The light burns blue.
Waxy stalactites
Drip and thicken, tears

The earthen womb

Exudes from its dead boredom.
Black bat airs

Wrap me, raggy shawls,
Cold homicides.
They weld to me like plums.

Old cave of calcium
Icicles, old echoer.
Even the newts are white,

Those holy Joes.
And the fish, the fish—
Christ! They are panes of ice,

A vice of knives,
A piranha
Religion, drinking

Its first communion out of my live toes.
The candle
Gulps and recovers its small altitude,

Its yellows hearten.
O love, how did you get here?
O embryo

Remembering, even in sleep,
Your crossed position.
The blood blooms clean

In you, ruby.
The pain
You wake to is not yours.

Love, love,
I have hung our cave with roses.
With soft rugs—

The last of Victoriana.
Let the stars
Plummet to their dark address,

Let the mercuric
Atoms that cripple drip
Into the terrible well,

You are the one
Solid the spaces lean on, envious.
You are the baby in the barn.



Sylvia Plath