Brightly

To bloom and branch

2007-06-26T06:48:00.000-07:00

Today's Dickinsonian oracle. May you branch, too. Or at least tingle.

I am alive - I guess -
The Branches on my Hand
Are full of Morning Glory -
And at my finger's end -

The Carmine - tingles warm -
And if I hold a Glass
Across my mouth - it blurs it -
Physician's - proof of Breath -
(E. Dickinson, from 605)

About each other and time's pausing

2007-06-24T08:27:00.000-07:00

And the Dickinsonian oracle today says:

We talked with each other about each other
Though neither of us spoke -
We were listening to the Second's Races
and the Hoofs of the Clock -
Pausing in front of our Palsied Faces
Time compassion took -
Arks of Reprieve he offered to us -
Ararats - we took -
(E. Dickinson, 1506)

Here comes the sun (and soul)

2007-06-21T09:23:00.000-07:00

On this solstice, the Dickinsonian oracle shines forth:

You Cannot take itself
From any Human soul -
That indestructable estate
Enable him to dwell -
Impregnable as Light
That every man behold
But take away as difficult
As undiscovered Gold -
(E. Dickinson, 1359)

Growing up

2007-06-05T09:41:00.000-07:00

Today's Dickinsonian oracle:

We outgrow love, like other things
And put it in the Drawer -
Till it an Antique fashioh shows -
Like Costumes Grandsires wore.
(E. Dickinson, 1094)

Those poems, those peonies

2007-06-04T09:55:00.000-07:00

Today's blossom: the Dickinsonian oracle.

I pay - in Satin Cash -
You did not state - your price -
A Petal, for a Paragraph
Is near as I can guess -
(E. Dickinson, 526)

Things that fly

2007-04-15T07:58:00.000-07:00

Today's Dickinsonian oracle:

The Butterfly in honored Dust
Assuredly will lie
But none will pass the Catacomb
So chastened as the Fly
(E. Dickinson, 1305)

Where we go

2007-04-14T17:38:00.000-07:00

Today's Dickinsonian oracle:

We can but follow to the Sun -
As oft as He go down
He leaves Ourselves a Sphere behind
'Tis mostly - following -

We go no further with the Dust
Than to the Earthen Door -
And then the Panels are reversed -
And we behold - no more
(E. Dickinson, 845)

Seeing visions

2007-04-13T05:42:00.000-07:00

Today's Dickinsonian oracle:

These - saw Visions -
Latch them softly -
These - held Dimples -
Smooth them slow -
This - addressed departing accents -
Quick - Sweet Mouth - to miss thee so -
(E. Dickinson, from 769)

In case you were wondering

2007-04-10T18:20:00.000-07:00

Today's Dickinsonian oracle:

Lest this be Heaven indeed
An Obstacle is given
That always guages a Degree
Between Oneself and Heaven.
(E. Dickinson, 1000)

Within a Swoon

2007-04-09T10:56:00.000-07:00

Today's Dickinsonian oracle:

There is a pain - so utter -
It swallows substance up -
Then covers the Abyss with Trance -
So Memory can step
Around - across - upon it -
As One within a Swoon -
Goes safely - where an open eye -
Would drop Him - Bone by Bone -
(E. Dickinson, 515)

Miracle

2007-04-08T09:52:00.000-07:00

Breath is miracle enough.

The Dickinsonian oracle:

I am alive - I guess
The Branches on my Hand
Are full of Morning Glory -
And at my finger's end -

The Carmine - tingles warm -
And if I hold a Glass
Across my mouth - it blurs it -
Physician's - proof of Breath -
(E. Dickinson, from 605)

Where she's been

2007-04-07T10:18:00.000-07:00

The Dickinsonian oracle explains:

Above Oblivion's Tide there is a Pier
And an effaceless "Few" are lifted there -
Nay - lift themselves - Fame has no Arms -
And but one Smile - that meagres Balms -
(E. Dickinson, 1552)

Taking pains to advance the chance

2007-01-26T05:26:00.000-08:00

Today's Dickinsonian oracle:

Pain - has an Element of Blank -
It cannot recollect
When it begun - Or if there were
A time when it was not -

It has no Future - but itself -
It's Infinite contain
It's Past - enlightened to perceive
New Periods - Of Pain.
(E. Dickinson, 760)

Why does everyone want to be a millionaire?

2007-01-25T05:31:00.000-08:00

Today's Dickinsonian oracle espouses the weight in gold of poets:

I reckon - When I count at all -
First - Poets - Then the Sun -
Then Summers - Then the Heaven of God -
And then - the List is done -

But, looking back - the First so seems
To Comprehend the Whole -
The Others look a needless Show -
So I write - Poets - All -
(E. Dickinson, from 533)

A human thing

2007-01-24T16:57:00.000-08:00

Back and feathered.

The Dickinsonian oracle:

Conferring with myself
My stranger disappeared
Though first upon a berry fat
Miraculously fared
How paltry looked my cares
My practise how absurd
Superfluous my whole career
Beside this travelling Bird
(E. Dickinson, 1739)

Frill

2006-10-25T06:49:00.000-07:00

fringe; fringed polygala; frippery; Frisco; frosette; frisky

Today's Dickinsonian oracle:

Of so divine a Loss
We enter but the Gain,
Indemnity for Loneliness
That such a Bliss has been.
(E. Dickinson, 1202)

Estop

2006-10-24T18:04:00.000-07:00

estovers; estreat; estrone; estuary; esurient; etamine; etaoin shrdlu

And the Dickinsonian oracle:

Empty my Heart, of Thee -
It's single Artery -
Begin, and leave Thee out -
Simply Extinction's Date -

Much Billow hath the Sea -
One Baltic - They -
Subtract Thyself, in play,
And not enough of me
Is left - to put away -
"Myself" meant Thee -

Erase the Root - no Tree -
Thee - then - no me -
The Heavens stripped -
Eternity's vast pocket, picked.
(E Dickinson, 393)

Deleterious

2006-10-21T13:18:00.000-07:00

deletion; delftware; Delian; deliberative; Delibes; delicate; delicatessen

Today's Dickinsonian oracle:

A Secret told -
Ceases to be a Secret - then -
A Secret - kept -
That - can appall but One -

Better of it - continual be afraid -
Than it -
And whon you told it to - beside -
(E. Dicksinson, 643)

Curtain call

2006-10-18T16:52:00.001-07:00

curtain lecture; curtal; curtal ax; curtilage; curtsy; curule; curvaceous

And today's Dickinsonian oracle:

To love thee Year by Year -
May less appear
Than sacrifice, and cease -
However, dear,
Forever might be short, I thought to show -
And so I pieced it, with a flower, now.
(E. Dickinson, 618)

Bejabbers

2006-10-17T06:41:00.000-07:00

belabor; belay; bel canto; beldam; beleageur

Today's Dickinsonian oracle:

Beauty - be not caused - It Is -
Chase it, and it ceases -
Chase it not, and it abides -

Overtake the Creases

In the Meadow - when the Wind
Runs his fingers thro' it -
Deity will see to it
That You never do it -
(E. Dickinson, 654)

Archetype

2006-10-16T07:28:00.000-07:00

archimandrite; archiplasm; architect; archivist; archivolt; archly

Today's Dickinsonian oracle says (archly):

Ourselves - we do inter - with sweet derision
The channel of the Dust - who once achieves -
Invalidates the Balm of that Religion
That doubts - as fervently as it believes -
(E. Dickinson, 1449)

O and O

2006-09-08T09:47:00.001-07:00

O the trip to Wisconsin, it's lake-loving kingfishers.
O the return of the students, sweat-shirted and expectant.
O the slipped days of August. O the flight of geese.
O fall o motion o riding, riding riddle.
O over it all yet o

O the Dickinsonian oracle:

Over the Light, yet over,
Over the Arc of the Bird -
Over the Comet's chimney -
Over the Cubit's Head,

Further than Guess can gallop
Further than Riddle ride -
Oh for a Disc to the Distance
Between Ourselves and the Dead!
(E. Dickinson, from 1068)

Cross pollination

2006-08-16T09:56:00.000-07:00

Whoa.

Today's Dickinsonian Oracle appears on ODALISQUED, Anne Boyer's attractive, poetically dapper blog.

Nice.

So get your daily dose of poetic prophecy there, not here... but remember, the best things dwell out of sight.

You aught to see this

2006-08-15T05:55:00.000-07:00

We at Brightly send glittering congratulations to fellow poet, Trug, and all-round wonder women K. Alma Peterson for the appearance of two of her brilliant poems in the newest volume of Aught!

Aught is cool.

Today's Dickinsonian oracle asserts:

Luck is not chance -
It's Toil -
Fortune's expensive smile
Is earned -
The Father of the Mine
Is that old fashioned Coin
We spurned -
(E. Dickinson, 1360)

Stuck

2006-08-01T09:57:00.000-07:00

The heat has reguritated the now rainy and cooler southwest Metropolis. The heat monster has packed up and headed east. Watch out, Connecticut. The monster strutteth.

It is hard to do much when one is stuck in a poem -- it just snuck up and grew around me. Stuck in the images from/of Qana also.

But back to philosophy:

It seems very likely that the structuring of associations and attachments around the affect shame is among the most telling differentials among cultures and times... Which means, among other things, that therapeutic or political strategies aimed directly at getting rid of individual or group shame, or undoing it, have something preposterous about them (Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick, Touching Feeling, p. 62).

And today's Dickinson oracle:

Departed - to the Judgment -
A Mighty - Afternoon -
Great Clouds - like Ushers - leaning
Creation - looking on -

The Flesh - Surrendered - Cancelled -
The Bodiless - begun -
Two Worlds - like Audiences - disperse -
And leave the Soul - alone -
(E. Dickinson, 399)

The sweat doth drippeth from the brow

2006-07-28T12:44:00.000-07:00

A hearty "Hail" from the hot zone to those in other hot zones. Now, who are they that say global warming is hooplah? Come work in Brightly's hothouse office for an afternoon, little misters. On second thought, stay away; stay far, far away.

O the hot little birds, they roll in dirt. They scrabble for shade, dirty sun-sponges they.

The Dickinsonian oracle sputters in the heat of the sunny southwest Midwestern Metroplis' afternoon:

What shall I do when the Summer troubles -
What, when the Rose is ripe -
What when the Eggs fly off in Music
From the Maple Keep?

What shall I do when the Skies a'chirrup
Drop a Tune on Me -
When the Bee hangs all Noon in the Buttercup
What will become of Me?
(E. Dickinson, from 915)

Paris Envy: Envy Object #3

2006-07-21T15:26:00.000-07:00

Ah, la belle Seine...

Vienne la nuit sonne l'heure
Les jour s'en vont je demeure.

The Dickinson oracle:

In thy long Paradise of Light
No moment will there be
When I shall long for Earthly Play
And mortal Company -
(E. Dickinson, 1145)

Spare witness

2006-07-17T06:22:00.000-07:00

Why did Diane Arbus view herself, if she viewed herself (viewfinder, focus, f-stop, etc.), as a spare witness, as despaired witness, as self-disposable? On a contact sheet: a frame, a self-portrait, a double-exposure. That look of anxiety in her subjects' faces. Faces must stain film and witnessing eye. Her eye is here for a while.

The Dickinsonian oracle on double-exposure and the shuttered light:

Let my first knowing be of thee
With morning's warming Light -
And my first Fearing, lest Unknowns
Engulph thee in the night -
(E. Dickinson, 1254)

Love worry

2006-07-14T06:21:00.000-07:00

How the ones one loves worry one. It must be true of children, but then there's the teenage flail, flail, flail. It's the four-pawed loved furs that fury worry. One must just listen for the purr.

The Dickinsonian oracle speaks:

No Rose, yet felt myself a'bloom,
No Bird - yet rode in Ether -
(E. Dickinson, 190)

Paris Envy: Envy Object #2

2006-07-12T15:16:00.000-07:00

Les fleurs du marche.

Oo la la.

And the Dickinsonian oracle, for whom flowers are everything:

I know lives, I could miss
Without a Misery -
Others - whose instant's wanting -
Would be Eternity -

The last - a scanty Number -
'Twould scarcely fill a Two -
The first - a Gnat's Horizon
Could easily outgrow -
(E. Dickinson, 574)

Daunted

2006-07-11T07:15:00.000-07:00

Oh, the camera angle. Oh, the minute hand and that regularity. Oh, the gravity, what mess and falter. Oh, to miss and stumble, despite the fine sand. Illusion's cushioned landing.

Today's Dickinsonian oracle. Read it and oh:

Because my Brook is fluent
I know 'tis dry -
Because my Brook is silent
It is the Sea -

And startled at it's rising
I try to flee
To where the Strong assure me
Is "no more Sea" -
(E. Dickinson, 1235)

Paris Envy: Envy Oblect #1

2006-07-08T09:01:00.000-07:00

Les chaussures violettes aux rubans.

Sigh.

On fabulous footwear and other objects of envy, the Dickinsonian oracle speaks:

'Tis Customary as we part
A Trinket - to confer -
It helps to stimulate the faith
When Lovers be afar -

'Tis various - as the various taste -
Clematis - journeying far -
Presents me with a single Curl -
Of her Electric Hair -
(E. Dickinson, 628)

Jet lag and hunger

2006-07-04T09:57:00.000-07:00

The Dickinsonian oracle is coming back to life, while we at Brightly try to shake off the jet lag and get over the sadness of having no fresh croissants for breakfast. Nor pain aux raisins. Zut alors.

On this festive, cool July 4, the Dickinsonian oracle offers this:

Further in Summer than the Birds -
Pathetic from the Grass -
A minor Nation celebrates
It's unobtrusive Mass.

No Ordinance be seen -
So gradual the Grace
A gentle Custom it becomes -
Enlarging Loneliness -
(E. Dickinson, from 895)

Queer Fireworks in July

2006-07-03T09:23:00.000-07:00

Hey, light a firecracker and read my poem, "July Sestina," winner of the summer Loose Leaf Poetry contest. Kaboom.

Paris Pride

2006-06-25T22:18:00.000-07:00

It takes some time to soak up the beauty of Paris. It is shockingly fantastic. Over-the-top fantastic. Girls-in-high-heeled-shoes and boys-with-languorous-eyes fantastic. Plus cute dogs.

Paris Gay Pride had the entire city rocking for hours. Straight people -- families, even, with tiny Parisians in baby carriages, and middle-age men and women in couples -- were everywhere, watching the parade, circling the Bastille. And thousands and thousands of gay people, from teenagers to incredibly sweet old lesbians. Maybe even more than 700,000 people.

Let's give a honorable French salute to the city street sweepers who swept the city streets after that big party. Whoa.

The Dickinsonian oracle is on vacation.

Cool Egyptian Fact #2

2006-06-16T05:38:00.000-07:00

Recent advances in imaging technology, along with the imagination and skill of artists with nothing else to do, have made it possible--finally--to reconstruct the physical likenesses of people long dead (at least of those who have left their bones lying about). So it should come as no particular surprise, though surely a delight, that we now know what King Tut looked like.

And we finally, finally have confirmation of what many of us have suspected for decades, namely that Barbra Streisand is the reincarnation of the world's most famous, short-lived boy king.

Thank goodness.

On reincarnation, ancient Egypt, and Babs, the Dickinsonian oracle says:

Me -- Come! My dazzled face
In such a shining place!
Me - hear! My foreign Ear
The sounds of Welcome - there!

The Saints forget
Our bashful feet -
My Holidays, shall be
That They - remember me -
My Paradise - the fame
That They - pronounce my name -
(E. Dickinson, 389)

Feline Health Report #3

2006-06-15T06:32:00.000-07:00

kitty is home.

kitty isn't quite himself.

kitty apparently told the good people at kitty klinic about his aspirations to join the circus. the good kitty klinic people outfitted kitty with a kitty clown collar. blue to match his eyes. kitty's considering "blue kitty clown collar kitty" as a stage name.

The Dickinsonian oracle offers this:

A Charm invests a face
Imperfectly beheld -
The Lady dare not life her Vail
For fear it be dispelled -

But peers beyond her mesh -
And wishes - and denies -
Lest Interview - annul a want
That Image - satisfies -
(E. Dickinson, 430)

Feline Health Report #2

2006-06-13T10:27:00.000-07:00

kitty is resting comfortably at kitty klinic after receiving two stitches.

kitty is wondering why his mothers don't feed him wet food.

kitty will return home this afternoon, much to the chagrin of two other kitties.

kitty vows to stay away from sharp objects, though is interested in trying out tight-rope walking.

unpon the kitty's successful surgery, the Dickinsonian oracle pronounces:

How much of Source escapes with thee -
How chief thy sessions be -
For thou hast borne a universe
Entirely away.
(E. Dickinson, 1567)

Feline Health Report #1

2006-06-12T16:14:00.000-07:00

kitty to the kitty klinic for sliced wrist.

speculate (a) practicing knife juggling (b) attempted suicide (c) shameless cry for attention (may be variant of (b)).

leaning toward (a).

The Dickinsonian oracle offers this prognosis:

A Sparrow took a Slice of Twig
And thought it very nice
I think, because his empty Plate
Was handed Nature twice -

Invigorated, waded
In all the deepest Sky
Until his little Figure
Was forfeited away -
(E. Dickinson, 1257)

Cool Egyptian Fact #1

2006-06-09T07:35:00.000-07:00

Those crafty Egyptians... they buried lovely little shabtis, or "answerer" figurines, with their dead (at least with their rich and royal dead) so that when the dead were prayed to and called upon to do work (like bringing on the rain), the dead needn't disturb their divine reposes; they just sent out their little shabtis to do the dirty work.

What a good idea.

On laziness in the afterlife, the Dickinson oracle pronounces:

It dont sound so terrible - quite - as it did -
I run it over - "Dead", Brain - "Dead".
Put it in Latin - left of my school -
Seems it dont shriek so - under rule.
(E. Dickinson, from 384)

Esoteric Scientific Theory #1

2006-06-08T14:20:00.001-07:00

florigen

From the Latin, flora (flower) and genna (to beget).

That substance which explains the flowering of a plant (call this plant "Lily") upon the grafting of a blosom from another plant (call this plant "Dahlia") onto that first plant (you know, Lily).

Lily makes Dahlia bloom. Well of course she does.

But wait. "The inability to isolate florigen, however, has led some botanists to doubt wether the substance exists" ( so says the venerable Dictionary of Theories. 2002. Ed. J. Bothamly et al. Detroit: Visible Ink.).

What the boys don't know won't hurt them.

The Dickinsonian oracle knows. Miss Dickinson knows everything. Hence:

I tend my flowers for thee -
Bright Absentee!
My Fuschzia's Coral Seams
Rip - while the Sower - dreams -
(E. Dickinson, from 367)

Toddler Wisdom

2006-06-06T14:02:00.000-07:00

This in from Madeline:

"Leave your mind alone and your projects will go away."

And the Dickinsonian oracle pronounces:

I had a daily Bliss
I half indifferent viewed
Till sudden I perceived it stir -
It grew as I pursued

Till when around a Hight
It wasted from my sight
Increased beyound my utmost scope
I learned to estimate -
(E. Dickinson, 1029)

Batwoman is one of us

2006-06-01T08:14:00.000-07:00

Finally, Batwoman comes out from under the rafters. We always knew... Now we just have to wait for Thelma.

The Dickinsonian oracle celebrates Batwoman's joining the Dickinson fanclub:

Her spirit rose to such a hight
Her countenance it did inflate
Like one that fed on awe.
More prudent to assault the dawn
Than merit the etherial scorn
That effervesced from her.
(E. Dickinson, 1527)

Whoa, hot.

2006-05-29T15:42:00.000-07:00

It is impossibly hot in the sunny, southwest Metropolis.

Like 95 degrees inside, 115 degress in the sun hot.

Like the cats are shedding ALL their fur hot.

Like it isn't possible to knit the baby blanket for Silas because the yarn keeps sticking to your fingers hot.

And the sweaty Dickinsonian oracle, which thinks it is suddenly in Baltimore and not in the sunny, southwest Metropolis, issues this forecast:

It knew no lapse, or Diminution -
But large - serene -
Burned on - until through Dissolution -
It failed from Men -

I could not deem these Planetary forces
Annulled -
But suffered an Exchange of Territory -
Or World -
(E. Dickinson, 568)

Sticky Kissy

2006-05-05T06:22:00.000-07:00

The radio's just been playing "Baby Knock Me a Kiss" by Louis Jordan and you can't get better than jam and kisses. Both can:

be sticky; stay in the corners of one's mouth; come in a variety of colors; be savored in the middle of winter, when ripe fruit has long since disappeared (at least in this frost-frigid metropolis); go well with either cream cheese or butter or stand on their own sweet feet. Yum.

The Dickinsonian oracle predicts your fate with both jam and kisses:

Expectation - is Contentment -
Gain - Saiety -
But Saiety - Conviction
Of Necessity

Of an Austere trait in Pleasure -
Good, without alarm
Is a too established Fortune -
Danger - deepens Sum -
(E. Dickinson, 865)

NaPoMo Dickinsonian Oracle and Writing Exercise #30

2006-04-30T14:02:00.000-07:00

At long, long last, and with only a small drop of regret, the Dickinsonian-Oracle's-Oracular-Writing-Exercise celebration draws to a close.

In honor of National Poetry Month, and for those interested in its NaPoWriMo incarnation, Brightly is proud to bring to you the Dickinsonian Oracle's Oracular Writing Exercise.

Here is the NaPoWriMo DiOrOrWriEx procedure:
(1) Pose a question to the oracle (just for fun. Maybe you'll get a decipherable answer).
(2) Read the oracle's pronouncement and writing commandment.
(3) Write a bit of poetry.

The Dickinsonian oracle, in a last-minute flurry, oraculates:

The Soul selects her own Society -
Then - shuts the Door -
To her diving Majority -
Present no more -

Unmoved - she notes the Chariots - pausing -
At her low Gate -
Unmoved - an Emperor kneeling
Opon her mat -

I've known her - from an ample nation -
Choose One -
Then -close the Valves of her attention -
Like Stone -
(E. Dickinson, 409)

And the very final writing commandment:

Write a poem addressed to the member(s) of your soul's select society. What must such members do to insure that you won't turn to stone in (because of) their presence?

NaPoMo Dickinsonian Oracle and Writing Exercise #28 and #29

2006-04-29T14:20:00.000-07:00

In honor of National Poetry Month, and for those interested in its NaPoWriMo incarnation, Brightly is proud to bring to you the Dickinsonian Oracle's Oracular Writing Exercise.

Here is the NaPoWriMo DiOrOrWriEx procedure:
(1) Pose a question to the oracle (just for fun. Maybe you'll get a decipherable answer).
(2) Read the oracle's pronouncement and writing commandment.
(3) Write a bit of poetry.

The Dickinsonian oracle wishes you well:

To do a magnanimous thing
And take one's self by surprise
If one's self is not in the habit of him
Is precisely the finest of Joys -

Not to do a magnanimous thing
Notwithstanding it never be known
Notwithstanding it cost us existence once
Is Rapture herself spurn -
(E. Dickinson, 1729)

The writing commandment:

Write a poem describing the one magnanimous thing you'd risk your life doing.

And the other writing commandment:

Write a poem with the working title "Rapture Spurned." Make it rococo; make it baroque; include insects under glass. If this is too cozy, write a poem entitled "Rupture Spurt."

NaPoMo Dickinsonian Oracle and Writing Exercise #27

2006-04-27T19:43:00.000-07:00

NaPoMo Dickinsonian Oracle and Writing Exercise #25 and #26

2006-04-26T19:26:00.000-07:00

In honor of National Poetry Month, and for those interested in its NaPoWriMo incarnation, Brightly is proud to bring to you the Dickinsonian Oracle's Oracular Writing Exercise.

Here is the NaPoWriMo DiOrOrWriEx procedure:
(1) Pose a question to the oracle (just for fun. Maybe you'll get a decipherable answer).
(2) Read the oracle's pronouncement and writing commandment.
(3) Write a bit of poetry.

The Dickinsonian oracle ruminates:

Power is a familiar growth -
Not foreign - not to be -
Beside us like a bland Abyss
In every company -
Escape it - there is but a chance -
When consciousness and clay
Lean forward for a final glance
Disprove that, and you may -
(E. Dickinson, 1287)

And writing commandment #25:

What would it take to "disprove" the last look of "consciousness and clay"? That is, how would you rally power over Death? Write a spooky incantatory poem, before Death sharpens her sickle.

And writing commandment #26:

Anyone you know who you'd classify as a bland Abyss? Write a recipe poem listing the ingredients your boring acquaintance needs to have in order to be, well, "crispay."

NaPoMo Dickinsonian Oracle and Writing Exercise #24

2006-04-24T19:06:00.000-07:00

NaPoMo Dickinsonian Oracle and Writing Exercise #22 and #23

2006-04-23T12:57:00.001-07:00

In honor of National Poetry Month, and for those interested in its NaPoWriMo incarnation, Brightly is proud to bring to you the Dickinsonian Oracle's Oracular Writing Exercise.

Here is the NaPoWriMo DiOrOrWriEx procedure:
(1) Pose a question to the oracle (just for fun. Maybe you'll get a decipherable answer).
(2) Read the oracle's pronouncement and writing commandment.
(3) Write a bit of poetry.

The Dickinsonian oracle was tight-lipped yesterday. Today it murmurs:

I send Two Sunsets -
Day and I - in competition ran -
I finished Two - and several Stars -
While He - was making One -

His own was ampler - but as I -
Was saying to a friend -
Mine - is the more convenient
To Carry in the Hand -
(E. Dickinson, 557)

And the writing commandments:

#22
Write a love poem to the person to whom you'd like to give a sunset, but instead of a sunset, offer her or him whatever is indicated by the eleventh noun that follows "sunset" in your handy, dandy dictionary. Looks like I'll be offering a superblock (which, it seems, is an urban area of several acres, usually closed to traffic, having interrelated residences and industries along with commercial, social and recreational facilities) to my beloved. That'll knock her socks off.

#23
Take the poem you've just written, edit out every other line, and flip it. Offer it to your beloved.

NaPoMo Dickinsonian Oracle and Writing Exercise #21

2006-04-21T06:25:00.000-07:00

Just nine more writing exercises left to go, then back to, well, whatever mess was here before April.

In honor of National Poetry Month, and for those interested in its NaPoWriMo incarnation, Brightly is proud to bring to you the Dickinsonian Oracle's Oracular Writing Exercise.

Here is the NaPoWriMo DiOrOrWriEx procedure:
(1) Pose a question to the oracle (just for fun. Maybe you'll get a decipherable answer).
(2) Read the oracle's pronouncement and writing commandment.
(3) Write a bit of poetry

The Dickinsonian oracle offers this lemon drop:

Delight's Despair at setting
Is that Delight is less
Than the sufficing Longing
That so impoverish.

Enchantment's Perihelion
Mistaken oft has been
For the Authentic orbit
Of it's Anterior Sun.
(E. Dickinson, 1375).

And the writing commandment:

Write a square poem, with one of these four words grounding each corner: delight, longing, enchantment, disillusion.

NaPoMo Dickinsonian Oracle and Writing Exercise #20

2006-04-20T19:14:00.000-07:00

NaPoMo Dickinsonian Oracle and Writing Exercise #19

2006-04-19T16:49:00.001-07:00

NaPoMo Dickinsonian Oracle and Writing Exercise #18

2006-04-18T15:35:00.000-07:00

In honor of National Poetry Month, and for those interested in its NaPoWriMo incarnation, Brightly is proud to bring to you the Dickinsonian Oracle's Oracular Writing Exercise.

Here is the NaPoWriMo DiOrOrWriEx procedure:
(1) Pose a question to the oracle (just for fun. Maybe you'll get a decipherable answer).
(2) Read the oracle's pronouncement and writing commandment.
(3) Write a bit of poetry

The Dickinsonian oracle oraculates thusly and fully:

How noteless Men, and Pleiads, stand,
Until a sudden sky
Reveals the fact that One is rapt
Forever from the eye -

Members of the Invisible,
Existing, while we stare,
In Leagueless Opportunity,
O'retakeless, as the Air -

Why did'nt we detain Them?
The Heavans with a smile,
Sweep by our disappointed Heads,
Without a syllable
(E. Dickinson, 342)

And the writing commandment:
What if you were among the Members of the Invisible? What would you want to get away with, O Gyges, if you couldn't (or as Miss Dickinson might say, could'nt) be seen? Write a poetic confession, sticky fingers.

NaPoMo Dickinsonian Oracle and Writing Exercise #17

2006-04-17T13:34:00.000-07:00

NaPoMo Dickinsonian Oracle and Writing Exercise #16

2006-04-16T09:29:00.000-07:00

NaPoMo Dickinsonian Oracle and Writing Exercise #15

2006-04-15T15:11:00.000-07:00

NaPoMo Dickinsonian Oracle and Writing Exercise #14

2006-04-14T06:13:00.000-07:00

NaPoMo Dickinsonian Oracle and Writing Exercise #13

2006-04-13T18:48:00.000-07:00

NaPoMo Dickinsonian Oracle and Writing Exercise #12

2006-04-12T15:27:00.000-07:00

NaPoMo Dickinsonian Oracle and Writing Exercise #11

2006-04-11T13:56:00.000-07:00

NaPoMo Dickinsonian Oracle and Writing Exercise #10

2006-04-10T12:30:00.000-07:00

NaPoMo Dickinsonian Oracle and Writing Exercise #9

2006-04-09T07:52:00.000-07:00

In honor of National Poetry Month, and for those interested in its NaPoWriMo incarnation, Brightly is proud to bring to you the Dickinsonian Oracle's Oracular Writing Exercise.

Here is the NaPoWriMo DiOrOrWriEx procedure:
(1) Pose a question to the oracle.
(2) Read the oracle's pronouncement and writing commandment.
(3) Write a bit of poetry

The Dickinsonian oracle announces:

A Night - there lay the Days between -
That Day that was Before -
And Day that was Behind - were One -
And now - 'twas Night - was here -

Slow - Night - that must be watched away -
As Grains opon a shore -
Too imperceptible to note -
Till it be Night - no more -
(E. Dickinson, 609)

And the writing commandment:

Use as the first line in a poem "Slow Y that must be X'ed away," substituting for Y a noun either rhyming with "night" or one having to do with darkness. For X, use a verb that was in the question you posed to the oracle. If, by some strange happenstance, you came up with a question that didn't contain a verb, used either (a) winced (b) welled or (c) walked. Write out a copy of your poem, and leave it in a public space!

NaPoMo Dickinsonian Oracle and Writing Exercise #8

2006-04-08T12:01:00.000-07:00

NaPoMo Dickinsonian Oracle and Writing Exercise #7

2006-04-07T06:26:00.001-07:00

NaPoMo Dickinsonian Oracle and Writing Exercise #6

2006-04-06T15:20:00.000-07:00

NaPoMo Dickinsonian Oracle and Writing Exercise #5

2006-04-05T19:36:00.000-07:00

NaPoMo Dickinsonian Oracle and Writing Exercise #4

2006-04-04T14:05:00.000-07:00

NaPoMo Dickinsonian Oracle and Writing Exercise #3

2006-04-03T10:48:00.000-07:00

Anyone?

2006-03-05T12:21:00.000-08:00

Is there anyone poetic, poetishicle, poem-linking, poembombish, etc. NOT going south to wear pajamas amidst the insiders?

Are there other left-asides being left aside, aside from this bright one?

Austin's too full of Texas, anyways. Poems can pom-pom elsewheres. So, too, poets.

In the Dickinsonian oracle, poets need not meet or meat in Texas.

Great Streets of silence led away
To Neighborhoods of Pause -
Here was no Notice - no Dissent
No Universe - No Laws

By Clocks, 'Twas Morning, and for Night
The Bells at Distance called -
But Epoch had no basis here
For Period exhaled.
(E. Dickinson, 1166)

What thing is little?

2006-02-22T06:10:00.000-08:00

We at Brightly ask in a rush of ecstatic exclamation, who needs breathe on such a day, the one hundred forteenth birthday celebration of the fatally inspiried, brilliant Edna St. Vincent Millay?

Millay was born in rocky Rockland, Maine, on February 22, 1892, to Cora Buzzelle and soon-to-be-kicked-out-of-the-house Henry Tollman Millay. What's the phone number of Rockford's mayor, Brian Harden, you may very well wonder.

In honor of this bright Millay day, the Dickinsonian oracle tosses this tribute:

'Twas later when the summer went
Than when the Cricket came -
And yet we knew that gentle Clock
Meant nought but Going Home -
'Twas sooner when the Cricket went
Than when the Winter came
Yet that pathetic Pendulum
Keeps Esoteric Time.
(E. Dickinson, 1312)

Unable to Use

2006-02-20T06:59:00.000-08:00

One might consider praising them for their move into the twenty-first century, and for tyring to speed up what they themselves call "a response less prompt than we would wish." But there are reasons not to, I've recently found:

(1) one cannot tell from the subject "Your Submission" whether good news lurks in the virtual envelope or not, so that one cannot set aside, with some assurance, the bad news itself for later.

(2) one cannot feel the size of the virtual envelope itself, to see if one's virtually submitted poems themselves are returned virtually, the case being that if one could, of course, one would set aside, with absolute assurance, the bad news itself for later.

Hence, down with the rather prestigious (though, in itself, somewhat less-than-gripping) journal's new policy of responding to e-mail submissions via e-mail. Down, down with the Ken-on Rev-ew itself!

The Dickinsonian oracle offers the following insight to all of us who cannot be used, ourselves:

Which is best? Heaven -
Or only Heaven to come
With that old Codicil of Doubt?
I cannot help esteem

The "Bird within the Hand"
Superior to the one
The "Bush" may yield me
Or may not -
Too late to choose again.
(E. Dickinson, 1021)

Okie dokie

2006-02-13T05:41:00.001-08:00

Everything is just fine.

I am not Dana or Carmen, Bette or Shane.
I am not Bode Miller, who used the wrong skies.
I am not a Republican.
I am not a member of the cast of "Dancing with the Stars."
I am not living under two feet of snow in Connecticut.

So everything's fine.

The Dickinsonian oracle may think otherwise:

Could Hope inspect her Basis
Her Craft were done -
Has a fictitious Charter
Or it is none -

Balked in the vastest instance
But to renew -
Felled by but one assassin -
Prosperity -
(E. Dickinson, 1282)

Too big to hang

2006-02-08T11:08:00.000-08:00

Overheard in a coffeeshop.
Two middle-aged men, one reading from a newspaper.
Something about a 400-pound man who had shot two people, was sentenced to death, but a higher court overturned the ruling, claiming that he was too big to hang, that the hanging might mistakenly result in a decapitation.

So he should die, but just not loose his head about it. Or, if he should loose his head, he's sentenced to life.

Google search of "too big to hang"

I guess I'm too big to hang around you little guys.
These speakers look too big to hang on the wall.
It was too big to hang. We had to shoot it to kill it and it was a mess.
They are too big to hang in your car's rearview mirror...

And my favorite: but pigeons are too big to hang off the washing line.

On "too big to hang," the Dickinsonian oracle muses:

You cannot fold a Flood
And put it in a Drawer -
Because the Winds would find it out -
And tell your Cedar Floor -
(E. Dickinson, from 583).

True. A Flood is too big to hang.

Button up, Gertrude

2006-02-05T15:22:00.000-08:00

We at Brightly shout from the top of our bright little lungs, "Happiest of 132nd birthdays two days late, gorgeous Gertrude!" Born at the early hour of 8am on February 3, 1874, to Amelia and Daniel Stein, Gertrude first saw the light of day in Allegheny, PA. Is it sunny or cloudy in lovely Allegheny?

In honor of Gertrude the Great's birthday, a few bite-sized buttons:

Diet Coke: Can

Suits the squat. What one winches quickest for wind-burn, sun buns with butter, more salt and then more. Chills the wind tunnel, supples the wind up.

SUV

Moon rovers moving mothers and other cakes, for instance brats bundled in bread and circuses. Transaxles highwired for trampling exhaust carpet-bombs, that one blue, that one a car park.

Cell Phone

Little kitty purrs portable, pocketwise. Envelope of sweet talk’s pollen, clings on tickled things, hears devices plot for further ringings, its jingles rubbing like the can-can, like a tire swing singing.

And the Dickinsonian oralce sends these wishes Stein-ward:

Estranged from Beauty - none can be -
For Beauty is Infinity -
And power to be finite ceased
Before Identity was creased -
(E. Dickinson, 1515)

Since when

2006-01-07T11:06:00.000-08:00

Even Seether knows there's no need to screech; the sun reappears/reaps/repairs/spears.

Seether soothes her squintly lips with sun sips.

Its been...since ever when.

And the Dickinsonian oracle hails the golden orb:

Aurora is the effect
Of the Celestial Face
Unconsciousness of Perfectness
To simulate, to Us.
(E. Dickinson, 1002)

Vocabulary Installation #8

2005-12-15T06:52:00.000-08:00

Under-belly: a pouch or bag under the belly of an animal. The belly or underside of an animal. Also fig., a vulnerable part. The underside or inferior part of something, which is often unnoticed or concealed. Used esp. w/ref to motor vehicles (see also "underbody").
1963 Listener 10 Jan. 65/2, I creep along on my cat's underbelly Nursing the floor for smells.
1976 J. CROSBY Snake (1977) x. 45 She was..sticking her knife into the disgusting underbelly of male chauvinism, and..into the soft underbelly of capitalism.

Under-body: the lower part of a woman's dress (obs).
1621 R. BRATHWAIT Times Cvrtaine Drawne D4, About the May pole while she tripps, Downe fell her vnder-bodie from her hipps

Which of the following uses "under-belly" correctly?
(a) Don't worry, Phyllis. The underbelly spreads like butter.
(b) When you wash Serpentina, make sure to scrub the underbelly.
(c) Slip the dollar bill into the underbelly, won't you?
(d) Underbelly, shumderbelly. At least my socks are dry.

The Dickinsonian oracle endorses under-bellies, hence:

Fron Blank to Blank -
A Threadless Way
I pushed Mechanic feet -
To stop - or perish - or advance -
Alike indifferent -

If end I gained
It ends beyond
Indefinite disclosed -
I shut my eyes - and groped as well
'Twas lighter - to be Blind
(E. Dickinson, 484)

Campus Meta-Four

2005-12-09T07:49:00.000-08:00

Overheard (more or less):

everyone wants a boyfriend
he says not true
she says I'm waiting
for the right person
geesh even I want
a boyfriend he says

The Dickinsonian oracle mumbles:

"We talked as Girls do -
Fond, and late -
We speculated fair, on every subject, but the Grave -
Of our's, none affair -"
(E. Dickinson, from 392)

Bid on Rain Taxi

2005-12-07T06:24:00.000-08:00

This in from Eric Lorberer, editor of the fabulous metropolis-born Rain Taxi Review of Books. Time is running out, so bid, bid, bid, biddle-heads!

RAIN TAXI'S TENTH ANNIVERSARY AUCTION
PLEASE SPREAD THE WORD!

From December 5th-11th, RAIN TAXI is holding an eBay charity auction featuring signed books, rare first editions, broadsides, chapbooks, and other exciting works by authors beloved by RAIN TAXI and its readers--over 100 items in all! Check in at Rain Taxi for full information and links to the auction site. And PLEASE SPREAD THE WORD about this auction to your friends, list-servs, blogs, etc. -- all proceeds from the auction will give RAIN TAXI, a nonprofit organization, a much-needed push into another decade of service to the literary community.

Of Rain Taxi, the Dickinsonian Oracle ruminates:

You constituted Time -
I deemed Eternity
A Revelation of Yourself -
'Twas therefore Deity
(E. Dickinson, from 488)

la la La la, La La

2005-11-21T14:35:00.000-08:00

and the guests came
and the birthday gifts on their ribboned legs came
and the cake made one guest fall in love
and the candles burned and were not blown
and the cats curled on strangers' laps
and the tea steeped, the coffee warmed
and the roses opened just in time
and the star led them in
and the star led them out
and my love moved me
and I am the happiest I've ever been

And the Dickinsonian oracle pronounces the birthday oracular pronouncement:

The lovely flowers embarrass me,
They make me regret I am not a Bee -
(E. Dickinson, 808)

Whatever

2005-11-18T13:49:00.000-08:00

my students say they don't care if they don't have free will

they feel free they say and that's good enough for them yes it is causality is fine with us they say as long as we don't notice it

and I say well think about your desires consider if they are just brute facts about you about you unadorned or if what you desire may well be what's been made available to you what you've been presented with as an option to love to want to lust for

oh they say their eyes bigger than ever oh

Thus spoke the Dickinsonian oracle:

There is a finished feeling
Experienced at Graves -
A leisure of the Future -
A Wilderness of Size
(E. Dickinson, from 1092)

Her kind, our kind

2005-11-09T12:26:00.000-08:00

We at Brightly are just shivering with delight as we celebrate the birthday of a most-beloved fab gal poet and scorpio sister, Anne Sexton, born on November 9, 1928, to Ralph and Mary Harvey in the idyllic just-past-Wellesley Boston suburb of Newton, Massachusetts. What city services does Newton offer its (presumably not dead-by-their-own hand, or dead at all) residents, you might very well ask yourself? Plenty, it seems.

Anne is suffocatingly superb. This certainly is not Precious Moments poetry:

I have gone out, a possessed witch,

haunting the black air, braver at night;

dreaming evil, I have done my hitch

over the plain houses, light by light:

lonely thing, twelve-fingered, out of mind.

A woman like that is not a woman, quite.

I have been her kind

And, of course, the Dickinsonian oracle -- twelve-fingered if it has any fingers at all -- offers this Sextonian birthday profession:

I heard a fly buzz - when I died -
The Stillness in the Room
Was like the Stillness in the Air -
Between the Heaves of Storm -
(E. Dickinson, from 591)

Purr poem

2005-11-07T08:00:00.000-08:00

Today's Brightly writer spotlight falls on Amelia the cat.

Amelia is not worried about whether or not she'll convey all the nuances of utilitarianism to her students (she has no students).
Amelia is not debating about whether she ought to go for a run through the sunny southwest metropolis (Amelia doesn't have cool weather running gear).
Amelia is not pulling her hair out about all the obligations she's committed to, now that the magazine writing class has begun and that author will likely turn over his manuscript for editing at any moment and those pesky (er, dearly beloved) students will turn in their papers on Descartes or Hume or Swinburne or whomever this week (Amelia doesn't have hair -- she has fur).

And so, she's free to compose a poem for the delight of all.

The sum
of catliness crests
midmorning before
slipping behind
the neighbor's house
catch the sun nap
kitty cats.
(a poem by Amelia)

And onto the Dickinsonian oracle, which may or may not recommend napping in the place of fretting. Let's see:

Morning is due to all -
To some - the Night -
To an imperial few -
The Auroral Light -
(E. Dickinson, 1621)

Cincinnati

2005-11-04T14:45:00.000-08:00

Cincinnati...

what's it like?

to live there, that is.

is there poetry there?

or any poets there?

IS ANYONE OUT THERE?

The oracle remains silent.

Sooner or later

2005-11-04T14:18:00.000-08:00

Sooner or later we all find ourselves in Chodorow

do not need to be tied : wishes to develop a middle position

about self, body, other's body : or self and other

much less covert and tabooed as topics: what in the wide spectrum

all women need: gender, and an emotion, anger

one is doing something entirely different : embarrassment

without further professional training : the central role

without undermining the significance of intersubjectivity

trauma, conflict, fixation, or experience : borderline

And offering its own psychoanalytical insight, the Dickinsonian oracle says from behind the couch:

So the Eyes accost - and sunder
In an Audience -
Stamped - occasionally - forever -
So may Countenance

Entertain - without addressing
Countenance of One
In a Neighboring Horizon -
Gone - as soon as known -

O soft embalmer

2005-11-02T16:11:00.000-08:00

Woefully, we at Brightly acknowledge having failed to honor the birthday of yet another bard, the lovely, tubercular John Keats, born in London's fog on October 31 in 1795. Though never a devoted fan, this Brightly writer appreciates the night lull of "O soft embalmer of the still midnight / Shutting with careful fingers and benign / Our gloom-pleas'd eyes, embower'd from the light / Enshaded in forgetfulness divine..."

As does the Dickinsonian oracle, who pronounces, in respectful homage to Keats' shade:

Oh Shadow on the Grass -
Art though a Step or not?
Go make thee fair my Candidate
My nominated Heart -
Oh Shadow on the Grass
While I delay to guess
Some other thou wilt consecrate -
Oh Unelected Face -
(E. Dickinson, 1237)

through the green fuse drives the flower

2005-10-28T08:48:00.000-07:00

A belated happy birthday to the Welsh bard, Dylan Thomas, born to David and Florence Thomas on October 27, 1914, in Swansea, Wales. Hey, what's the weather in Swansea? If you hurry, you still might make the Dylan Thomas festival.

The fierce that thrown the preen ruse hives the power
Hives my preen page; that flouts the routes of bees
Is my describer.
And I am done to spell the cricket home
My wreath is rent by this sane flinty river.

And a birthday salute from the Dickinsonian oracle:

My Heart ran so to thee
It would not wait for me
And I affronted grew
And drew away
For whatsoe'er my pace
He first achieve thy Face -
How general a Grace
Allotted two -
(E. Dickinson, from 1331)

Meta-Four Lily

2005-10-18T15:17:00.000-07:00

Lily says the mind
is like a pinata
when you crack it
open you find lots
of surprises that's pinata
perspective when losing your
mind becomes a peak
experience but isn't losing
your mind reallly losing
your pinata not cracking
it open what then

Shed some light, O Dickinsonian oracle:

The Outer - from the Inner
Derives it's magnitude -
'Tis Duke, or Dwarf, according
as is the central mood -
(E. Dickinson, from 450)

Like a pinata

2005-10-17T10:45:00.000-07:00

Lovely, funny Lily Tomlin: the mind is like a pinata.

Me: the mind is like a skillet. Or an eclair. Or a bowling lane. Or a lap. Maybe a flea market. Definitely a pudding.

The Dickinson oracle: the mind is like

A Coffin - is a small Domain,
Yet able to contain
A citizen of Paradise
In it's diminished Plane -
(E. Dickinson, from 890)

Postmodern Meta-Four

2005-10-14T10:23:00.000-07:00

For a postmodern Friday:

It seems that postmodern
discourse about liminality's facticity
is just talk about
the facts of limits
or limens meaning thresholds
why not just say
it Judy but historicity
now that's some word

From the Dickinsonian oracle's postmodern mouth:

As we pass Houses musing slow
If they be occupied
So minds may pass minds
If they be occupied
(E. Dickinson, 1723)

Spirits and feathers

2005-10-12T12:15:00.000-07:00

Read about a terrific and fascinating women in a terrific and fascinating article written by terrific and fascinating you know who. It's in this current issue of Minnesota Women's Press

And the Dickinsonian oracle adds:

If this is "fading"
Oh let me immediately "fade"!
If this is "dying"
Bury - me, in such a shroud of red!
If this is "sleep,"
On such a night
How proud to shut the eye!
Good evening, gentle Fellow men!
Peacock presumes to die!
(E. Dickisnson, 119)

Tuesday Meta-Four

2005-10-11T15:34:00.000-07:00

An unfunny meta-four:

Quake

the earth breaks open
and we don't know
what to do what
happens bodies fall upon
bodies and more bodies

The Dickinson oracle:

The Opening and the Close
Of Being, are alike
Or differ, if they do,
As Bloom upon a Stalk -

That from an equal Seed
Unto an equal Bud
Go parallel, perfected
In that they have decayed -
(E. Dickinson, 1098)

Meta-Four for Monday

2005-10-10T07:22:00.000-07:00

It's all Jonathan Williams' idea. Try a meta-four yourself. The only rules: each line must have four and only four words; eliminate all capital letters and punctuation (except for hyphens and apostrophes). Have fun and make some Monday nonsense.

Monday Meta-Four

it could have been
a great weekend you'll
never tell your coworkers
are asking but what
do you care pass
a donut will you

Though Williams certainly shows originality, did he in fact swipe the idea from Miss Emily? Check out the Dickinsonian oracle's almost meta-four:

Alter! When the Hills do -
Falter! When the Sun
Question if His Glory
Be the Perfect One -

Surfeit! When the Daffodil
Doth of the Dew -
Even as Herself - Sir -
I will - Of You -
(E. Dickinson, 755)

Swift: A Poem, plus kinky chemistry

2005-10-05T14:21:00.000-07:00

You dart
as quick
as a kleptomaniac's
wish
for more,
you dart.

And from the Dickinsonian oracle, sage advice about the two chemists who just won the Smarty Pants Prize for their work on dancing atoms that swap their subatomic parts:

Ourselves - we do inter - with sweet derision
The channel of the Dust - who once achieves -
Invalidates the Balm of that Religion
That doubts - as fervently as it believes -
(E. Dickinson, 1449)

Soutwest metropolis morality tale #1

2005-10-03T09:08:00.000-07:00

Once upon a sunny southwest metropolis time, a girl named Seether was shuffling through her sun-dripping neighborhood, her imaginary tale twitching and her imaginary pointed ears quivering to the imaginary static she so easily perceived buzzing through the early-morning but nevertheless humid air.

As she often did on her morning forays, Seether was on the lookout for hypocrites, analytic philosophers, and other threats to civilization as she imagined it.

"Snark," she seethed. "Rat licker. Pig bottom," she snarled as she rounded a corner, humming to the hum in her head, a ripple cascading down her imaginarily fur-lined back.

Suddenly, a thin, wheezy voice penetrated her concentration: "... and she said 4856, but there is no 4856..."

Seether stopped in her imaginary four-pawed tracks, seeing a short, white haired old lady standing on the corner looking up and down the street, then imploringly at Seether.

"Ack. Brain numb-er," Seether spit out, but the old lady approached, coming so close that Seether saw her whiskers, and a bright dot of coral lipstick smeared on her upper left lip.

"... and I took the bus, but there is no 4856."

"What," Seether asked, titling her head so as to better filter the static now bristling all about, "are you looking for?"

The old lady, peering out through her little old lady eyes, wheezed, "The hair dresser's." Her frizzled hair frizzled.

Twitching her tail, had it been there, Seether turned, pointed, and said, "The green awning... there," the mention of which caused the little old lady to blink, blink again, and start off in the direction of the now apparent, flourescently glowing "OPEN" sign.

"Have," Seether cautiously offered, "a good day."

"... and it has been such a bad one already," the little old lady replied, seething a bit herself.

"It can only," Seether said, "thus," Seether spun, "get better." And off Seether sprinted, thinking that the old lady was not the sort to spout mind-numbing drivel parading as wonderment at best and linguistic slight-of-hand at worst; nor did she seem a hypocrite, with her early morning appointment and that spot of color on her lip.

The End

And the moral of the story from the Dickinsonian oracle:

A Thought went up my mind today -
That I have had before -
But did not finish - some way back -
I could not fix the Year -

Nor Where it went - nor why it came
The second time to me -
Nor definitely, what it was -
Have I the Art to say -

But somewhere - in my soul - I know -
I've met the Thing before -
It just reminded me - 'twas all -
And came my way no more -
(E. Dickinson, 731)

Blow out the candles

2005-09-28T08:00:00.000-07:00

Today's topic: wishes

• what they do and how they function
• what happens (a) when they are snuffed out (b) when we drop them in the laps of unsuspecting strangers (c) when we leave them on stoops, ring the bells, and run (d) when we leave them unattended in shopping carts at the mall (e) when they are too small to be seen with the naked eye (f) when they are too large to fit into a #10 envelope and hence require additional postage (g) when they get covered in cat hair (h) when they are lonely (i) when we miss them (j) when we turn them into prayers (k) when they hover in the corner and won't go to bed (l) when they are pink (m) when they are brittle (o) when one comes back to haunt you (p) when they turn into a balloons and float away (q) when they insist on wearing leather jackets (r) when they insist on dressing like toursits (s) when they refuse to split up (t) when they have gender identity crises (u) when they turn into poems (v) when they don't turn into poems (w) when they grow mould (x) when they turn into fetishes (y) when they whisper (z) when they shout.

The Dickinsonian oracle blows out the candles:

When Etna basks and purrs
Naples is more afraid
Than when she shows her Garnet Tooth -
Security is loud -
(E. Dickinson, 1161)

Time pinches

2005-09-26T08:34:00.000-07:00

What to do when time pinches, and you just cannot squeeze into a second/minute/hour/morning/day/weekend/week all that that is jumping up and down to get done:

1) go for a run. Einstein said something about moving quickly and altering time. So be a physicist and hit the road with your running shoes and iPod.

2) scream. This feels good.

3) get to work. This is effective.

4) have a snack, scream, then get to work. This makes feeling good and being effective tasty.

On this pinched-up day, the Dickinsonian Oracle offers its own sage advice:

Forever - is composed of Nows -
'Tis not a different time -
Except for Infiniteness -
And Latitude of Home -

From this - experienced Here -
Remove the Dates - to These -
Let Months dissolve in further Months -
And Years - exhale in Years -

Without Debate - or Pause -
Or Celebrated Days -
No different Our Years would be
From Anno Dominies -
(E. Dickinson, 690)

Hope, and the fine

2005-09-23T05:44:00.000-07:00

And so the philosopher asks:

How might you live (not so much what would you do, but what constitutes "going on" in a meaningful sense, what would make going on possible) facing the quite real chance of the collapse of the world as you know it, when the ideas around which you've established your worldview, and which undergird your very subjectivity, not only fail to be recognized by others but are utterly unavailable for recognition, are no longer viable, have evaporated, and hence no longer make sense (indeed, can no longer make sense), even to you?

And the philosopher answers:

Courage: hope + a reaching toward a transcendent goodness, the nature of which you cannot now understand + a vision of the fine.

The Dickinsonian oracle ponders:

Presentiment - is that long shadow - on the Lawn -
Indicative that Suns go down -

The notice to the startled Grass
That Darkness - is about to pass -
(E. Dickinson, 487)

Words that sound

2005-09-21T06:12:00.000-07:00

Words that sound skittery together:

supervenience
scuffler
seethe

Set up a rumble in the blood. Good for mornings, or other laggings.

Here's some frisson from the Dickinsonian oracle:

That distance was between Us
That is not Mile or Main -
The Will it is that situates -
Equator - never can -
(E. Dickinson, 906)