here. a small sliver of poem. to go with the glimpses into my travel journal.
taken from New Years by Dana Gioia
because sometimes i like the little bites better than the whole piece.
But can this blur, this smudgy in-between,
This tiny fissure where the future drips
Into the past, this flyspeck we call now
Be our true habitat? The present is
The leaky palm of water that we skim
From the swift, silent river slipping by.
The new year always brings us what we want
Simply by bringing us along—to see
A calendar with every day uncrossed,
A field of snow without a single footprint.
Oh my! Beautiful! Lots of food for thought in this snippet.
Posted by: Judy H. | Wednesday, January 18, 2012 at 05:27 PM
Tiny fissure where the future drips? Sounds like how my feet feel sometime! Cool poem - I like. Your journal looks like so much fun I wish I was there -looking over your shoulder.
Posted by: Corky | Wednesday, January 18, 2012 at 05:46 PM
watching you embellish a journal is really all I want to do.
So much for 49 things...or was it 47....?
Posted by: Lisa Hoffman | Wednesday, January 18, 2012 at 05:52 PM
I don't get poetry, wish I did, but I don't. Love the smiles.
Posted by: Domenico | Wednesday, January 18, 2012 at 06:01 PM
i love this poem, even a smidgen of it. i do. thanks.
Posted by: sheila | Wednesday, January 18, 2012 at 07:09 PM
A field of snow without a single footprint....love that line. Creates a lovely picture in my mind of waking up to new fallen snow when I lived in AK. Is there anything more pristine than that?
Have you found a new village to visit in Mexico? Just wondering.
Posted by: Joan | Wednesday, January 18, 2012 at 07:23 PM
I miss reading your blog on a daily base like i do when at home... But today I found a computer and here I am. Lovely photographs of Mexican things. At least that is what I see. My mr Wonderful got me a Virgin of Guadelupe... A wooden one. I will try to snap her soon.
I love your macro shots of tulips, and I agree, sometimes tulips are very seductive...
So sorry for your kittie... He was a gorgeous cat!
Posted by: catherine lucas | Wednesday, January 18, 2012 at 08:33 PM
The new year is like snow without footprints, is it not? I do have to admit, tho, that my new year has had a few smudged and muddy prints...but that is life and it happens.
Dear Ms. Moss...love you. You are an unblemished snow bank in my life. e. (e.w.)
Posted by: ellen | Wednesday, January 18, 2012 at 08:57 PM
Harrruuumph! I wrote something similar in 7th grade and my teacher gave me a C. Well, I did write fleaspeck, instead of flyspeck. I also was a bit more descriptive about the virgin snow and all, and my perspective was from a crossed-eyed individual who couldn't decide where to mark x's on the calendar. Otherwise, it was lyrical and at the same time, dramatic, but contemporary without being maudlin rap.
Posted by: Violet Cadburry | Wednesday, January 18, 2012 at 10:56 PM
"A calendar with every day uncrossed, a field of snow without a single footprint." Wow, that is beautiful! I see I am about to follow Violet in the comment section, so I will add, "a chocolate cake with no fingerprints in the icing, a freshly painted journal page background with no pawprints on it..." Thanks for the tantalizing glimpses into your latest travel journal, MA!!
Posted by: Cynthia | Thursday, January 19, 2012 at 04:16 AM
As to the calendar with the days uncrossed.... who says you have to cross off days..... you can embellish them with all the fun and joy you find on that day. Isn't that why we keep art journals?
I did enjoy the poem... especially the line about "A field of snow without a single footprint.." Having lived in Maine for many years I do understand the joy of that, the waking up in the morning to a new coating of snow, untrampled. It always gave me peace for a bit.
Posted by: Beth in NE PA | Thursday, January 19, 2012 at 05:56 AM
gave me shivers up my spine. xoDonna
Posted by: donna, doni, lady d | Thursday, January 19, 2012 at 06:18 AM
"A calendar with every day uncrossed," the most wonderful sight of the New Year. I'm a crosser offer. At the end of the day, I love to cross off each day on the calendar and consequently, at the end of the year not only do I know where I'm at, but I also have a "completed" year. I also love to cross off things on the to-do list. Feeling of power I suppose. Lovely poem.
Posted by: Leslie J. Moran | Thursday, January 19, 2012 at 06:56 AM
Such a lovely snippet, it makes my pulse quicken a bit...
Posted by: Jenny | Thursday, January 19, 2012 at 07:00 AM
Beautiful poem, beautiful journal pages.
Posted by: Chelsy | Thursday, January 19, 2012 at 09:02 AM
what a wonderful poem snippet!
Posted by: connie rose | Thursday, January 19, 2012 at 09:36 AM
many many times I like the little bites better than the whole piece :)
Posted by: eli | Thursday, January 19, 2012 at 10:25 AM
These comments are as poetic as the poem. I'm not a day crosser because I used to know what day it was, but now even though I never know what day of the week it is, I can just glance up at the right hand corner of my iMac and voila! I used to keep my Victorian calendars, because I use some of the images for Valentine's cards. Last year I forgot to buy a new calendar so used a 1984 Victorian calendar that had the same days. Is that thrifty or cheap? For me, I just enjoyed looking at the images again. The url to find out if you can use that calendar again is: http://www.timeanddate.com/calendar/repeating.html?year=2012
Posted by: chris | Thursday, January 19, 2012 at 05:43 PM
Mary Ann, those ribbons look like they pop right out of the picture! Beautiful!
Posted by: Amy G. | Tuesday, January 24, 2012 at 03:38 AM