Friday Poem
Posted by ben on 17 Aug 2007 at 10:41 am | Tagged as: poetry
Enough about money, it’s time for some poetry (the poorest art form around):
Existence
The man of dark politics
in a gold-buttoned boudoir
watched the untying of a black chignon
the hair rolled out like a torrent
in the torrent roses tumbled
and in one rose the mute insect
would not abdicate its existence
and clambered alone slowly
on the trembling petal of the flower
plucked from the ravines of death
in the course of a long day.
– Jean Follain (, trans. W. S. Merwin)
awesomely toothsome.
the white gloves cover up the claws
October 15th, 2007 · 88 comments
writes jennifer from greenville, s.c.: “each year the junior league of greenville hosts a great oscar party — normally a band, dancing, open bar and food. this year, they decided that a band is what caused people to make it a ‘drunkfest’ in the past. (southern belles do not like drunkfests unless they can wear their white gloves to them.) instead, they’ve decided to hire a pianist to play show tunes so no one will drink heavily or dance.” as a dues-paying junior leaguer herself, jennifer (bless her heart!) decided to e-mail the event chair to suggest an alternative. in response came this charming example of southern grace