This Thing Called Courage

Tuesday, September 04, 2007

Lovely Words; Some Pictures





IRISH POET GREG DELANTY recently spoke at Boston Univerisity, and the show is available online. Now matter how busy the day, I always take a ten minute poetry break in the midst of things, out back in the woods behind my house (weather permitting) or upstairs in the attic. I think poetry should always be read aloud, and what better, than to hear the poetry aloud with the poet's own voice? Click hear for the show:

http://www.buworldofideas.org/shows/2007/09/20070902.asp

Here's a few pictures I've been meaning to post. Last Friday I was out on the harbor islands with my friend Joe, who had never seen them before, despite growing up in sight of them. Last night I went down to Nahant to visit Will Malachy and his parents (my brother Mike and his lovely wife Carol) and I haven't posted a pic of him for a while so, here we go. In no particular order, these are looking eastward from the rear of Ft. Warren on George's Island; a view from a casement window; and Will 'walking' a somewhat recalcitrant Fionn. It's hard to believe, but he starts pre-school a year from today. Will Malachy, that is, not Fionn--

The water was heavenly last night(this is generally as warm as the water gets) the weather sublime, and I stayed in until it was dark, staring across the darkening sky as the stars and planets rose over the water, and the lights came on across Boston Harbor ont he South Shore. I can never get intot eh ocean without thinking (Petey-like) of how the oceans, always swirling and ever-mingling, confab and conflute, mixing and swirling-- so I think, This is the first time I've been in the Indian Ocean, or whatever, and think about all the things this water now running over my body has touched before me-- and I wonder if some of it is coming back to touch me again, from all those dunks as a youngster down at the City Point Beach...

Best of luck to all the teachers and students starting out today on the sometimes rocky road to knowledge. I'm sending you all an astrally-projected bouquet of sharpened pencils.

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