Blindspot.
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Despite the fact that most of the people who read this blog know me, I tend
to treat it as an anonymous airing of the soul. I pretend that people who
kn...
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Fall afternoon
Fall afternoon. Warm breeze rustles across the yard.
I sit reading Seamus Heaney's Field Work,
hoping, like Heaney,
"to get back in my own head."
Ava's legs are crossed on my lap,
she is reclined, writing in my notebook--
her name, over again,
each with a new hand.
And I think, it's not so much my own
head I need to get back in, as it is
to keep my head in the world.
Labels:
fall,
Field Work,
head in the world,
in my own head,
Seamus Heaney
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