Love is not a victory march

I've been reading Edna St. Vincent Millay lately. Despite her scandalous private life, her poetry is brilliant.

The Concert

No, I will go alone.
I will come back when it's over.
Yes, of course I love you.
No, it will not be long.
Why may you not come with me? --
You are too much my lover.
You would put yourself
Between me and song.

If I go alone,
Quiet and suavely clothed,
My body will die in its chair,
And over my head a flame,
A mind that is twice my own,
Will mark with icy mirth
The wide advance and retreat
Of armies without a country,
Storming a nameless gate,
Hurling terrible javelins down
From the shouting walls of a singing town
Where no women wait!
Armies clean of love and hate,
Marching lines of pitiless sound
Climbing hills to the sun and hurling
Golden spears to the ground!
Up the lines a silver runner
Bearing a banner whereon is scored
The mild and steel of a bloodless wound
Healed at length by the sword!

You and I have nothing to do with music.
We may not make of music a filigree frame,
Within which you and I,
Tenderly glad we came,
Sit smiling, hand in hand.

Come now, be content.
I will come back to you, I swear I will;
And you will know me still.
I shall be only a little taller
Than when I went.


First Fig

My candle burns at both ends;

It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends --
It gives a lovely light!

There are more, of course. But these two are the most memorable, for me. This one's excellent too. :)

The first day of Fall was last week. It was 96 degrees. It's about time for this extended summer to die, I think. I'm ready to break out the jean jacket, but the weather isn't cooperating. Oh, well. Autumn can't be long now. Right?

I'm really feeling this song right now. And this version is gorgeous and perfect.

Stay tuned for a hilarious series of observations about my new town; also featuring some deep philosophical ideas, reflections on various adventures, and some geeky artsy stuff as well. :)

Fall and Fog

Somehow, while I was getting lost in the back roads of my brand-new town and meeting neighbors and talking to strangers, September slipped in and was halfway gone before I realized it was here. I love September. It's the last hurrah of summer, but it's promising Fall.

Courtesy here. This is how I picture September, in my head. Gray, and a little melancholy. This is Big Sur, California, one of my favorite places. Fall there isn't colorful, but it's gloomy and chilly and mysterious.

Nothing much more to say now, except that football season has started! Go Broncos! :)

FOG

THE fog comes
on little cat feet.

It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.

-Carl Sandburg