JELLYFISH 3.0

HEAR YE, HEAR YE

JELLYFISH MAGAZINE HAS A NEW ISSUE OUT!

Featuring such crazy awesome people such as: Nate Pritts, C.S. Ward, Emily Kendal Frey, Matt L. Rohrer, David Bartone, Zach Savich, and many more!

(also features a shocking shade of purple!)




And, I shall end with one of my two favorite Schuyler poems. What's the other? You'll just have to wonder.

February

A chimney, breathing a little smoke.
The sun, I can't see
making a bit of pink
I can't quite see in the blue.
The pink of five tulips
at five p.m. on the day before March first.
The green of the tulip stems and leaves
like something I can't remember,
finding a jack-in-the-pulpit
a long time ago and far away.
Why it was December then
and the sun was on the sea
by the temples we'd gone to see.
One green wave moved in the violet sea
like the UN Building on big evenings,
green and wet
while the sky turns violet.
A few almond trees
had a few flowers, like a few snowflakes
out of the blue looking pink in the light.
A gray hush
in which the boxy trucks roll up Second Avenue
into the sky. They're just
going over the hill.
The green leaves of the tulips on my desk
like grass light on flesh,
and a green-copper steeple
and streaks of cloud beginning to glow.
I can't get over
how it all works in together
like a woman who just came to her window
and stands there filling it
jogging her baby in her arms.
She's so far off. Is it the light
that makes the baby pink?
I can see the little fists
and the rocking-horse motion of her breasts.
It's getting grayer and gold and chilly.
Two dog-size lions face each other
at the corners of a roof.
It's the yellow dust inside the tulips.
It's the shape of a tulip.
It's the water in the drinking glass the tulips are in.
It's a day like any other.

I thought, as I sat in the wing chair:

First of all, thanks to The Review Review for writing a review last year of Issue 6 of the Los Angeles Review that I just came across after a little bit of detective work! I am beyond grateful for the nod. The review is here!

Second, the Third Year LIVE LIT is tomorrow night! Featuring all wonderful writers, without a doubt. Miranda Dennis, Adam Cogbill, Nick Sansone, and Jessica Miele. 8 pm, Amherst Books. Be there or be square.




Whirl up, sea—
whirl your pointed pines,
splash your great pines
on our rocks,
hurl your green over us,
cover us with your pools of fir.

"Oread," H.D.

Woods, sea, city. Where to live?

A house made entirely of wood, in the woods.





want to sit in one with a cup of tea and a book.


Speaking of books, we've read 6 books in our "Time and the Novel" class so far. Only one book has ended on a positive note, but without a doubt the writing is superb. So far we have read:
1. Katherine Anne Porter's "Noon Wine"
2. SB's "Of Mice and Men"
3. Glenway Westcott's The Pilgrim Hawk: A Love Story
4. Saul Bellow's Seize the Day
5. Thomas Bernhard's Woodcutters
6. Jill Ciment's Heroic Measures <---the positive one. And it was pretty good, I'll say.

Also, in the Comparative Lit class I'm taking, on Modern Poetry and Poetics, we are getting really far into Pound. We're reading the Cantos, and it's good to know that books like this exist: . The class does make me want to know every language possible. I get this nagging feeling that I should have known about comp lit when I was in undergrad, because THEN I wouldn't have had such anxiety and fretting over WHICH LANGUAGE to pursue. I could have just pursued them all! I took 101s in so many languages, I started and had potential in so many languages, but had a moment like the legend in The Bell Jar: the man sitting in the crotch of the fig tree, starving to death because he couldn't decide which part of the tree to take from. So I didn't get fluent in any language.

CURRENT GOAL: Writing poems while also keeping one's class schedule, assignments completed, and lesson plans under control.

I will end this post with pictures of my latest cooking adventure: making and canning apple butter!











SUCCESS!



I used This Recipe.