Because I've committed to a poem a day in April, here is a short poem by Marie Ponsot that came from my daily Knopf mailings this month of poems. Bliss.
No one
is here
right now.
To change the subject: the picture above is [I presume, somehow doctored] one that shows the amount of space junk floating around the earth. The picture has a certain beauty. The reality it represents is seriously awful. Plus I read in the paper a day or two ago that a second vast area of the Pacific has been found to be covered with floating junk, mostly plastic bottles and other kind of plastic debris. Many, many, many square miles of non-degradable junk simply throw into the sea. There are so many things I could say about human thoughtlessness, our pollution of the beautiful sea, the skies above us, our rivers, our air, our earth and the food that goes in and on it ... And very often other people's lives so that only a few feel with Marie Ponsot that bliss is aloneness.
2 comments:
I don't think you really changed the subject. Pollution by people, pollution by junk. They both are disturbing.
I appreciate your visit and the comment you left leading me here.
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