Karen, I love this SO much! You capture so much in the pieces of this and it seems so right that it IS in pieces. And sometimes we go to pieces ourselves but then the pieces sometimes fall together — or close enough to together that we can go on as long as we have dogs. And poems. But ohhhh, you’ve been sick. I’m so sorry to hear that!! Steroids, yuck.
Also, it is in pieces and we do go to pieces and they do fall together, or the dogs make up the slack. Phew about the dogs, and the poems. Don't worry; I am getting better every day. xoxo
Karen, my love! What a beautiful reflection that captures so much of what is going on in this moment - the house is literally going quiet as your kids back their things in preparation to leave. My heart! But you have chosen the perfect nest in which to percolate. And Wallace Stevens is a fab percolating partner. Hooray for the right poem at the right moment and hooray for your beautiful essay! xoxo
Oh, Karen. So beautiful. I see you in the nooks and the staircases that go nowhere…except they do “in a loud, medieval way, with wailing and such, that would have been alarming to passersby or family members.” I feel that so deeply. I’m wondering about the connection between this poem and “Anecdote of the Jar.” How do two seemingly disparate objects meld in a harmonious way? It seems that you and the house are becoming one, learning how each other communicates. Complimenting each other in the quiet of wished-for spaces. The house hears you cry out. “There, there,” it seems to say. “Let it out. After all, I’ve got a staircase that goes nowhere, too.” Love this.
So much to think about here that you’ve brought to my attention and is so new to me. I love that. The animation of this house! Much better “in cahoots with” than a stranger that’s hard to get to know. Thank you, Jenny!
Karen, I love this SO much! You capture so much in the pieces of this and it seems so right that it IS in pieces. And sometimes we go to pieces ourselves but then the pieces sometimes fall together — or close enough to together that we can go on as long as we have dogs. And poems. But ohhhh, you’ve been sick. I’m so sorry to hear that!! Steroids, yuck.
love this and you, Mary
Also, it is in pieces and we do go to pieces and they do fall together, or the dogs make up the slack. Phew about the dogs, and the poems. Don't worry; I am getting better every day. xoxo
beautiful piece, Karen. 💗
Thank you, Liana! That means a lot! xoxo
Amazing and powerful!
Thank you so much! Glad you liked it, hon. xo
Karen, my love! What a beautiful reflection that captures so much of what is going on in this moment - the house is literally going quiet as your kids back their things in preparation to leave. My heart! But you have chosen the perfect nest in which to percolate. And Wallace Stevens is a fab percolating partner. Hooray for the right poem at the right moment and hooray for your beautiful essay! xoxo
Thank you Keira with the good great ❤️
Oh, Karen. So beautiful. I see you in the nooks and the staircases that go nowhere…except they do “in a loud, medieval way, with wailing and such, that would have been alarming to passersby or family members.” I feel that so deeply. I’m wondering about the connection between this poem and “Anecdote of the Jar.” How do two seemingly disparate objects meld in a harmonious way? It seems that you and the house are becoming one, learning how each other communicates. Complimenting each other in the quiet of wished-for spaces. The house hears you cry out. “There, there,” it seems to say. “Let it out. After all, I’ve got a staircase that goes nowhere, too.” Love this.
So much to think about here that you’ve brought to my attention and is so new to me. I love that. The animation of this house! Much better “in cahoots with” than a stranger that’s hard to get to know. Thank you, Jenny!