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February 15, 2007
15 minutes until class. what to do?
Posted by phoebeg at 01:11 PM | Comments (0)
February 08, 2007
god and god
this poster. . . once thrilled me when I first saw it plastered glued pasted on the side of a building in an alleyway in Marseille. It's the words at the top that pleased me so. Not parallel or equivalent, but I used to bounce my name off the empty walls in my head as "phoe-and-so-it-be."
Posted by phoebeg at 07:21 AM | Comments (0)
February 07, 2007
it is Topo Gigio.
When I was but a small child, my grandparents would sometimes let me stay up to watch the Ed Sullivan Show and see the mouse, Topo Gigio. I was so tired I suppose but I loved that mouse and my memories of him blended with my dreams, which made him seem real, because real people were with him in the dreams.
Posted by phoebeg at 11:27 PM | Comments (0)
February 03, 2007
Bob the German Cat
He was alive in this happy moment in 1937
I am happy to present two other moments in the life of this animal-
you see his mouth, how it's slightly open in all the photographs? I wonder whether Bob had adenoid trouble.
Posted by phoebeg at 11:27 PM | Comments (0)
did you, do you, know Fara Rinehart?
Bitsy, April, Summer, all at once of South San Francisco
and her little dog was named Joey.
Posted by phoebeg at 12:00 AM | Comments (0)
February 02, 2007
do you know sabrina pickford and paul issel, aka "randy?"
did they know you then?
maybe it was 1979 or 1980
maybe it was the Elm Hotel, 2004, in a wheel chair.
Posted by phoebeg at 06:11 PM | Comments (0)
at the same time vincible and invincible
is how one must be in order to convince that very same one's own self
that things may be better, or at least different, than they seem.
a rainbow on my birthday, in downtown ann arbor,
seeming to originate or terminate on or near the Frieze Building,
which is soon to be destroyed.
Posted by phoebeg at 04:53 PM | Comments (0)
how can such a mean old woman
teach the young people of today?
she tries too hard, and yet not enough.
Posted by phoebeg at 02:18 PM | Comments (0)
February 01, 2007
what I feel, actually, is sad
but not hysterically so; I'm paralyzed and worried, about big things beyond my control, and I don't care so much about what's right in front of me
my daughter said, "I think about death."
none of her friends knew Guy, and she doesn't try to talk about him anymore, because she feels they don't understand, they see her as a crybaby
Posted by phoebeg at 10:56 PM | Comments (0)
do you know betty werther?
have you met her? at UNESCO in Paris in 1982?
do you know her?
Posted by phoebeg at 10:51 PM | Comments (1)
do you know jean-luc maniouloux?
from a far away place, maybe France?
bonjour.
Posted by phoebeg at 10:28 PM | Comments (0)
for Katie
a poem by Guy, for his girlfriend
Your Face is a Space Station.
Each freckle is a planet,
or a pancake
frying in zero gravity
with spacemen swimming in your nuclear batter
orbiting dietcoke moons and
Ice Pack Black(Holes)
[how could earth be beautiful enough for her
her face is a galaxy]
eyes are twin motherland suns
living welts of Brownness
Brown like what tree trunks dream,
Brown like where james Brown shoots up that Brown stuff,
baseline Brown
Brown where it all began and where it shall return to
in the end
big bang eyes
more
Scalp is a spring farm
a breeding pit of mobius miracles,
a retirement home for slinkies
where hair follicles mate and curl
until I lose my sanity staring at it
lf there is justice in this universe,
darling,
we would lock nebulas and explore the cosmos
until it's all just dust
anyways
- Guy Robichaud
Posted by phoebeg at 07:07 PM | Comments (0)