No sir. I do not bite my thumb at you, sir. But I bite my thumb, sir.

In the wolfpack: Shel Silverstein

I still remember most of the words to Shel Silverstein's poem, "Sick". Little Peggy Ann McKay's dramatic efforts to get out of school...only to realize it was, indeed, Saturday...really resonated with me.

NPR did a beautiful piece this week on the much loved author, poet, composer, illustrator who passed away in 1999.  You can listen to the story, which includes his family members reading some of his work, here.

I'm looking forward to reading his new collection Everything On It , and I'm adding The Giving Tree to my Christmas-shopping list.  It is going to make a great holiday gift.

Fist pump, Push ups, Chapstick

There was Dante.  And Longfellow.  And Neruda.  

Haunting images. Beautiful words.  Surprising metaphors. 

But them of quite capture the nuances of the modern world, like a one, Mr. Pauly D.  

An accidental poet in a league of his very own. 

I would argue that the Hitchhiker's Guide got it wrong.
42 is not the answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe, everything.
But rather, Fist pump, push ups, chapstick answers it all.
All you need is FPC.

To Be of Use

The people I love the best
jump into work head first
without dallying in the shallows
and swim off with sure strokes almost out of sight.
They seem to become natives of that element,
the black sleek heads of seals
bouncing like half-submerged balls.

I love people who harness themselves, an ox to a heavy cart,
who pull like water buffalo, with massive patience,
who strain in the mud and the muck to move things forward,
who do what has to be done, again and again.

I want to be with people who submerge
in the task, who go into the fields to harvest
and work in a row and pass the bags along,
who are not parlor generals and field deserters
but move in a common rhythm
when the food must come in or the fire be put out.

The work of the world is common as mud.
Botched, it smears the hands, crumbles to dust.
But the thing worth doing well done
has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident.
Greek amphoras for wine or oil, 
Hopi vases that held corn, are put in museums
but you know they were made to be used. 
The pitcher cries for water to carry
and a person for work that is real.

                                   -- Marge Piercy

xo kate

Getting the wind knocked out of you is the only way to remind your lungs how much they like the taste of air.

I love the Under 30 series in TED Talks.  Sarah Kay is fantastic and I want to be her friend.  I think the way that she talks about poetry is the way that we feel (or hope to feel) about our passions; they help us make sense of the world and, as we learn more and know more, become the backpack of tools we bring to discover more about what we don't know.



I want to meet Charlotte, the student who wrote that Anderson Cooper is a gorgeous man.  And Sarah Kay, the teacher who let her.

xo kate