behindtheax

My education through blogging

I read the Anne Sexton poem on Alan’s blog and decided to go wandering through the internet to find information on her. (I know - forty- three years old and I am only now stumbling over poets and writers that I should know but don’t) So I read her sad biography and read about a half a dozen poems of hers, one titled, Christmas Eve which put a hitch in my heart and then I clicked on images and oh my God – she reminded me of my mother. Her features. Which was all really strange and really had nothing to do with poetry– but I threw on my coat and rushed out the door without the dogs and they were whining for me to come back for them but I kept walking, all excited, to the used bookstore hoping to find a book of hers. But I was out of luck and when I finally calmed down I realized I got a little carried away there. However, I did happen to find an old copy of Ariel (The price on the cover is $1.95 and it has an introduction by Robert Lowell??) and also Henry Miller’s Tropic of Cancer. I also found a Philip Levine way in the bottom of this stack and as I pulled, somewhat gently on it, the books piled on top went crashing down everywhere. A Leonard Cohen went flying and a couple of Ogden Nash’s hit the ground and a Margaret Atwood fell in between the shelf and the wall but I was able to reach down and save it. Right it all again. Thank God I was in the back room and alone.

Now I have to help Erin make an animal cell out of jello. Don’t ask.

And tonight Greg and I are off to see the documentary -- Heart of Gold (Neil Young). We heard nothing but good things about it.

posted by mary j. @ 4:55 PM