At roughly 12:43 PM Eastern Standard Time, I arrived back in the U.S. I’ve been getting up to play with my dog almost every hour on the hour, so I’m happy as a really happy thing right now, if a bit covered in hair and slime as I type. Sorry, Steve. It’ll be a busy first couple of weeks back, but not so busy that I can’t get the rest of the Rambling 2012 posts out to you lovely individuals.
In the meantime, here’s the opening poem to BJ Ward’s Landing in New Jersey with Soft Hands for what I think are pretty self-explanatory reasons.
Introduction Idaho trails from my left pennyloafer, Arizona from my right. A Nevada waitress hangs from my heart. The many loves of the many states are crushed into my wash-needing socks. My ears still cling to the musicians I’ve loved in these many places. There is here, in my pocket, a memento for you. It is a sound, and if you could open it, your very palms would shiver with what my travels play in the small, well-boned ears you have in your hips, your legs, your ankles, your feet. Are you dancing?
It’s not my favorite from the book, but all of those are generally sad, inappropriate, or both.