Friday, January 21, 2011

A fun one!

Tarantulas on the Lifebuoy
by Thomas Lux

For some semitropical reason
when the rains fall
relentlessly they fall

into swimming pools, these otherwise
bright and scary
arachnids. They can swim
a little, but not for long

and they can’t climb the ladder out.
They usually drown––but
if you want their favor,
if you believe there is justice,
a reward for not loving

the death of ugly
and even dangerous (the eel, hog snake,
rats) creatures, if

you believe these things, then
you would leave a lifebuoy
or two in your swimming pool at night.

And in the morning
you would haul ashore
the huddled, hairy survivors

and escort them
back to the bush, and know,
be assured that at least these saved,
as individuals, would not turn up

again someday
in your hat, drawer,
or the tangled underworld

of your socks, and that even––
when your belief in justice
merges with your belief in dreams––
they may tell the others

in a sign language
four times as subtle
and complicated as man’s

that you are good,
that you love them,
that you would save them again.

Monday, January 10, 2011


It's upsetting to watch friends on the cusp of terrible, potentially life-destroying decisions that they are considering largely because of the opinions of a crazy person (who won't live forever anyway). Kowtowing to such insane whims is just nuts. It doesn't matter if one's heart is in the right place or not -- it's irrational to make any more disastrous offerings on the altar of someone else's good intentions.

That is all.

Wednesday, January 05, 2011

Rilke for a New Year

Have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and ... try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.
Rainer Maria Rilke, 1903
in Letters to a Young Poet