Suspended Objects

whatever would one do without suspended objects?

with a definitive lack of piles of baby stuff, such as that which infests our ann arbor home, i set to the woods to collect a few things for julius' amusement. pinecones. leaves. sticks. you know the drill.

some yarn. one nail. about a ten minute battle with the nail. it was a duel of function: you will hold these sticks together. "no i won't," said the nail. "yes you shall," said i. i won. and thus, the sticks are held together. with the help of monseiur hammer.sometimes all a girl really needs is a centerpoint. and a hammer. that sounds gross, but i don't mean it that way.

stole a few chili peppers from my mom's collection in the dish on the table.

now julius has a mobile.

i thought you might like this.

its rainy and i'm stuck inside.

i have a treat for you.

its my favorite poem ever written.

it belongs of the imaginarium.

its called wild geese.

by mary oliver.

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body

love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile the world goes on,

Meanwhile the sun and clear pebbles of rain

are moving across landscapes,

over the prairies and deep trees,

over the mountains and the rivers.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clear blue sky,

are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like wild geese, harsh and exciting -

over and over announcing your place,

in the family of things.