tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56803222011-05-26T14:26:19.063+03:00Last GaspLast Gasp, where <strike>bad</strike> poetry, <strike>poor</strike> political analysis, and <strike>meaningless</strike> observations come <strike>to die</strike>.Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.comBlogger2301100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-25396685338346713072008-09-05T23:12:00.001+03:002008-09-05T23:12:23.517+03:00I hear a rumor that another gasp is coming...Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-36488292511400144102007-08-29T00:54:00.000+03:002007-08-29T00:57:04.847+03:00[turns out light][shuts door]Moinoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1160559793184709952006-10-11T12:42:00.000+03:002006-10-11T12:43:13.193+03:00Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1156490216702603502006-08-25T10:15:00.000+03:002006-08-25T10:16:56.710+03:00Though I haven't posted them, the menagerie is growing. Here are the latest beasties. Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1155752684900145092006-08-16T21:22:00.000+03:002006-08-16T21:24:44.906+03:00 Today was a beautiful day. Yesterday's rain cleared the air that had been thick with smoke from forest fires burning in Russia. The heavy stench of burnt wood was everywhere; buildings were made hazy by smoke that had travelled hundreds of kilometers.Yesterday I was uncertain how this guy would come together, but I think managed it. Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1155555206922705602006-08-14T14:30:00.000+03:002006-08-14T14:33:26.930+03:00 Since I have little to say right now, I guess I'll fill up the void with pictures. This seems to be my current creative outlet. Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1155456750241310332006-08-13T11:11:00.000+03:002006-08-13T11:12:30.250+03:00 The image doesn't seem too clear, but it doesn't matter. Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1153402696321366062006-07-20T16:37:00.000+03:002006-07-20T16:38:16.323+03:00 In Porvoo the kids got to steer Mats' fine yatch. Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1153402610335828322006-07-20T16:35:00.000+03:002006-07-20T16:36:50.336+03:00Ready for our ride to Porvoo on Sunday. That headwind did nothing to easy the journey. Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1153402444032585352006-07-20T16:33:00.000+03:002006-07-20T16:34:04.036+03:00 Picnics by the sea. What more can I say? Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1145043696769901462006-04-14T22:31:00.000+03:002006-04-14T22:41:36.806+03:00Two for one:On back of a Kaunis Kampela receiptI write out of contextthe noises of the bar.Though clinking glasses fill& sacred smoke like incense driftsupwards to the fish, bolted to the ceiling;though revellers murmur,the cheats smile through white teeth,though the world is wrapped for inspectionI write these lines:I'm not the kind of girlwho does this... normally.My dad would not approve.I'd Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1144871932444649882006-04-12T22:56:00.000+03:002006-04-12T22:59:32.833+03:00Work like the sky& sing like a dinerRoll like the waitress& creep like the tideNature is a game(time on a stick)& I gaze through my windowon a digital sunsetLeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1144786216271917092006-04-11T23:06:00.000+03:002006-04-11T23:10:16.286+03:00This almost says what I want it to say...The Road Is Long, But Relief Is on the WayAny trail worth following isworth leaving now & then.Trails only move two ways,but sidepaths are wisdom'sgateposts, are thoughts made flesh.Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1144657361073622272006-04-10T11:03:00.000+03:002006-04-10T11:24:37.506+03:00Traveling makes routine impossible. I am obviously a creature of routine, because while I had time, I couldn't put together any poems. (Or whatever...) I am a creature of habit, but when traveling I give up normal life and go with the flow. I think people make their biggest mistake traveling when they try and live like they do at home. There is probably a message in that for coping with Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1143936912673496372006-04-02T03:07:00.000+03:002006-04-02T03:16:19.210+03:00Saturday, Sunny, High 77The sun outside had made eventhe office parkinto a blossomed paradise.Everyone said, "The weekend willbe wonderful"& turned from the window back to work.The clickity-clack of keyboardstestified strength& on the alters of their desksthey sacrificed the bright sun light;their monitorsflickered like candles in a church.It is disappointing then thatwhen Saturdaydawned like Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1143752462641041822006-03-30T23:59:00.000+03:002006-03-31T00:02:07.506+03:00From yesterday:Because even chicken farmer's daughters get marriedHope, hope, hope, hope.Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1143547823353598652006-03-28T15:06:00.000+03:002006-03-28T15:10:23.363+03:001. The Power and the KingIn the bazaar of lifethe tiger is a beastwhose pelt is traded like flowers2. Common Wonders for 4.50€Like stars on my windowsillthe daffodils orientmy snow blind heart to springLeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1143488147507908102006-03-27T22:33:00.000+03:002006-03-27T22:35:47.536+03:00Before they comeI whisper truthsto get them outof my system.I must be cold,pale as my neighbor,tall as the pines& meaninglessas the wind intheir crooked limbs.Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1143400963045072122006-03-26T22:21:00.000+03:002006-03-26T22:22:43.046+03:00There seems to be a Sunday theme of lousy poems. It was the case last week, too. Too much time? (Not today... We had the Sipoo friends contingent over today...)Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1143400598142640772006-03-26T22:11:00.000+03:002006-03-26T22:18:16.846+03:00I am absolutely devoid of ideas today. I have scratched and scratched and there is nothing. You'd think it would not be this hard...I go to the well& the bucket comes up drySipping the dust,I write you this...Last night I answered Samppa's one word summons ("Out?") and we ended up crashing a chicken farmer's daughter's bachelorette party. You'd think a poem would be in there somewhere. The Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1143291514291684802006-03-25T14:52:00.000+02:002006-03-25T14:58:34.303+02:00Yet another slow spring themed poem. I can't help it. I draw poems from experience and when this is what I see everyday, then I must deal with it.The earth is a blank pagewaiting for springto write the season on it.It's happening now.Water splashes on everythinglike ink from the sky.Soon the pages will fillwith grass strokes & leafy paragraphs,worm letters will wriggle in the mud& mushrooms Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1143236975317163762006-03-24T23:39:00.000+02:002006-03-25T00:01:43.866+02:00When they packed up & leftit was as if (overnight)the whole sea had been drained.& though the rivers we criedflowed like the Amazon,our tears dried in the dust.In the end, we had nothingleft to give & our sobsbecame sighs, became thoughtsthat danced on the edge of the flamesof our waking minds & ranwild in the gloom of our sleep.They rose like swallows onan August evening.They went in search of aLeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1143142038029627862006-03-23T21:20:00.000+02:002006-03-23T21:29:20.836+02:00Like little flagsfluttering in the wind,ice fishermendot the sea.If ever Jesuswas the ice fisher of men,maybe he'd catch me.The first stanza is really all I had to say, but I wanted to say more. So I go for cutesy cleverness. At Owen's daycare today the children's families came to play, make bookmarks, eat and relax together. Not one parent said anything to another. I do not understand how Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1143057194981683042006-03-22T21:48:00.000+02:002006-03-24T23:57:26.960+02:00Our car rolled down the Helsinki streets, temporary tags on the windows. It's almost over.BeholdenLike pilgrims plying priests with bitsof tacky paper, we offerdocuments, praying they're enough.Ker-thunk, ker-thunk. The decisionis stamped on each official form.What thinks the beast on meeting man?What hope has he man before the machine?[EDIT 11:55pm 24 March 2006]Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1142973526906940022006-03-21T22:09:00.000+02:002006-03-21T22:54:14.516+02:00So you know, Karjala is a brand of beer.A Bridge BeyondThe boys are waiting in the barwhile we walk to join them (for a nightof booze) across a snowy bridge.The water below is frozen;The wind above, frozen too;The harbor cranes are motionless.I sip a Karjala & think(before the night erases thought):Bridges are always refusalsto let reality dividetwo points. They span what is to createan Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1142920109579560642006-03-21T07:36:00.000+02:002006-03-21T07:48:29.593+02:00To the tsk-ers of the world, this was written word for word yesterday, but went unposted. Partly because it is only a rough start to an idea I'd like to flesh out. Maybe today?The jackdaw gets into the trash& eats roadkill& cackles all dayIt never leavesinto someimaginarygeographyLeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1142794672372219932006-03-19T20:56:00.000+02:002006-03-19T20:57:52.386+02:00Coco Crisp cares about the team.Snowballs make lousy baseballs.Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1142701595737529712006-03-18T18:57:00.000+02:002006-03-18T19:07:30.713+02:00New snow has replaced what the warm sun of the last two days melted. Winter clings on, though it cannot last forever. In less than two months the trees will have leaves.The GathererHis cool blue eyes (in a baby face)took in the crowd like rain on a lake.One look joined each of them (in him)with new histories, loves & griefs.He never knew (but guessed) if they,too, felt the change, or whether, Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1142593170501698072006-03-17T12:07:00.000+02:002006-03-17T12:59:30.573+02:00I wanted to revisit yesterday's poem. There were many things I did not like about it, but some things I liked a lot. So, here is another go:Marian SairaalaThe drunks are in room four:Let them have light & timeon the bare beds, then send them parched into the streets.Some withered women lieon beds along the wall.Breathing in masks, they raspa dirge that lasts all day.Dead without death, they areLeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1142537177126700222006-03-16T21:16:00.000+02:002006-03-16T21:27:24.383+02:00Yes, it's all based on a true story. Squash is a great game, but I wish I weren't so clumsy.Marian SairaalaThe drunks are in room four,blank faces stare at meeach time their door opens.Let them have light & time,then send them back out parched.Some withered women lieon beds along the wall.They are dead without death,they are their own tombstones.My ankle isn't much.It throbs, but I'm still youngLeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1142459146912665262006-03-15T23:44:00.000+02:002006-03-15T23:45:46.923+02:00burnLeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1142365527986215412006-03-14T21:42:00.000+02:002006-03-14T21:45:27.996+02:00This is getting harder. Feeling enough everyday to write anything worthwhile is very difficult. I need to exercise that poetic muscle.Fat moon rising in mist,return on a gray day,I place too many hopeson your white pocked surface.Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1142279069923757542006-03-13T21:38:00.000+02:002006-03-13T21:44:29.936+02:00Finally, the sun brings some warming power with it. I say "finally" even though I've spent less than a month in this weather. My attitude is wound too tightly.Snow MeltPuddles neverlooked so wonderfuloozing in the sunLife wins againLeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1142189617296210082006-03-12T20:43:00.000+02:002006-03-16T21:29:44.313+02:00WorksHow many hours did the carpenter spendbuilding this table, turning wood intoa useful thing, a new object for the world?I picture him, cigarette perched in his lips,matching walnut grains through a veil of smoke.Now his work mingles with mine, he becomesa silent partner to the evening meal.What do I do that others can build on?My lonely broodings are selfish dead-ends.I sprinkle words to the Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1142107314640451882006-03-11T21:50:00.000+02:002006-03-11T22:02:58.410+02:00The first two parts were written as calendar notes on my cell phone, since I had no pen.Three Poems of Everyday1. Shoe SalesmanWithout a pen, I writemy poems on the soles of people's feet.2. BuilderI build to someone else's plan,but how many poets measuretheir verse to meter long since sung?A plan is empty space untilI raise the beams of reality.3. BakerI've never tasted wordswritten on a white Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1142027360095755662006-03-10T23:43:00.000+02:002006-03-10T23:49:20.106+02:00Hummingbird & lizard,hail! Fellow worshippers!Like brothers long partedlet us sing our joyous reunion.Let us bask beneath these warm rays,hearing the fountainslike the dream of lovers.There is a place,white walls & palms,where the mind floatsin a sea of light.Yes, hail! My Brothers!Linger with menow the sun is gone,remind me of those white walls.Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1141917431562543362006-03-09T17:10:00.000+02:002006-03-09T17:18:36.370+02:00I am about to go to a school meeting regarding Matilda's language options for next year. Quite possibly I'll join some guys for sauna after that, so today this will have to suffice:Wild as the grain of this table,gnarled as pine branches by the seaI've grown more like the things around me,became a thing among thingsI played squash today for the first time in years. The feeling of exertion is Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1141848194552739442006-03-08T21:48:00.000+02:002006-03-08T22:03:14.663+02:00I have busted out the bike, though snow falls daily and 20F is the best we get so far. It feels good to ride into town. I look forward to that ride when the sea is not frozen and the air warm.WillThe beer is bitter in the Lauttapub,as bitter as the faces sipping insilence. There're other bars with better beer,but they come here because the stagnant airkeeps time to the beat of their daily Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1141758463024807902006-03-07T21:03:00.000+02:002006-03-07T21:07:43.036+02:00When the Aliens CameDum-dee-dum, here we comewith roses on our sleeves.We hold our hands aboveour heads & wave them inthe wind to mimic leaves.Dum-dee-dum, here they comedescending from the sky.We understand the lights,the sounds, the story's clear,but wonder if we'll die.Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1141676361851778022006-03-06T22:01:00.000+02:002006-03-06T22:30:57.533+02:00Another YearI don't know how much more snow I can take,it falls & I sip tea, watching the pinesgrow heavy white. It's a new beginningevery day, clean slate for the wayward world.But then the noisy plows scrape it aside,the buses run on time, nothing is closed.The snow is not magic. It's just weather.Three hundred years ago (or even more)what did they hope from spring? That their bare Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1141580177764044752006-03-05T19:29:00.000+02:002006-03-05T19:46:50.940+02:00No matter how hard I try, today I'm coming up dry. This ditty might have to do:Yeah, toes are cool. I've gotten myself & they're great.Always down there, neverasking for thanks, neverdemanding anything.You got toes? How many?I really wanted to write a poem about a man, a young son, a snow covered ice rink, a sled and a patient desire to play hockey. Somehow, nothing came of my thoughts, Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1141508984611794582006-03-04T23:38:00.000+02:002006-03-04T23:52:23.496+02:00I'll slip this one in under the wire, though I wrote it earlier today. Between cleaning, shopping, partying, I have had almost no time to take care of business!Ari has plied me with too many beers and whiskeys. I hope this comes off...What should I hope for nowI've grown too old to thinkthe world was made for me?Should I march forth to war?Should I crush the kiddieswith dull expectation?Should Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1141396906942079042006-03-03T16:34:00.000+02:002006-03-03T16:41:46.963+02:00Greetings. Quickly before I go skating, I will post my poem.They Are Out ThereTurn every stone you see& when it seems you've foundwhat you thought it was youwere looking for, turn more.Kill what you have to kill,then fill your mind with sand& let your belly breedsnakes & salamanders.Them gods have left us now.They've gone away in theirshiny ships & left usonly the twinkling stars.Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1141318422725261452006-03-02T18:39:00.000+02:002006-03-02T18:53:42.740+02:00The second poem, written today, is slightly different in form. For a while now I've been writing predominately in trimeter and I wanted to try something else. Once, this was my preferred form. (Yes, I guess this is an admission that I find form necessary for my poems.)Ribbon RoadThere is nothing reminding me of whoI am, no pictures frame my memories.There is just this road cutting between Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1141317580493375042006-03-02T18:18:00.000+02:002006-03-03T12:33:19.756+02:00Today's first poem is actually a multi-day production. I started it on Sunday, reordered it yesterday and finished it today. PatienceThere was a time when stormsdarkened daily the sky.Mere thunder proved too weakto break the granite cliffs,but time & slow seasonscombined with the soft rainto wear those cliffs away.to carry them away. [Edit: 3 Mar 2006 12:31]This was originally the Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1141201034895980212006-03-01T10:13:00.000+02:002006-03-01T11:58:58.306+02:00And so begins, begins our odyssey:Into the ForestDeep in the dark forestthe fearsome tiger lurks.Not some caged cat in a zoo,seen napping by childrensnacking in strollers,but the authentic beastwith every lethal trickthat trickled down the chainof terror at his command.If I enter this wood,& walk its secret ways,will I come out unchanged?Everywhere UncertaintyI'm not 100% sure of the best way to Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1141124180765030292006-02-28T12:50:00.000+02:002006-02-28T12:56:20.780+02:00Project LentSeized by lentian passion, I've vowed to do and not do without. Is this acceptable? I don't even care. In tribute to the bluing spring, I dedicate myself to a forty day task. Before Easter I hope to have forty or more poems written right here on this blog. Now, "poem" might be a tad optimistic, but why not aim high. I will write each day and scrape together something resembling Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1133361124271838172005-11-30T16:30:00.000+02:002005-11-30T16:32:04.283+02:00As I listen to The Arcade Fire's album Funeral, I watch the helicopters buzz over town. Oh Bush, how much effort goes into your transportation! As I biked over the Naval Academy Bridge Troopers were stationed at either side, monitoring for suspicious folk. I guess I passed muster because I passed unmolested. Must be my honest face. I sure love this album.Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1133209287648970772005-11-28T22:20:00.000+02:002005-11-28T22:21:27.660+02:00Matilda told me 'You are weird. But in a good way.' That's a good right? To be weirdly good? Or goodly weird.Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1130532857350022302005-10-28T23:53:00.000+03:002005-10-28T23:56:19.786+03:00WordsAll of a sudden their colors turnthen one by one they drift away,until all that's left is a deepsilence above a golden floor.The wait begins for sounds to scrapsweet nothings to an empty sky.Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1122995738615357752005-08-02T18:08:00.000+03:002005-08-02T18:15:38.623+03:00On the second attempt we made it through Andrei Tarkovsky's Solaris. It's not that it was a bad movie, (there is much to be said for it, or rather, said for its parts); it's just that it was very very slow. Three hours of slow moving, inexplicable strangeness. I had to fight off sleep each time we watched it (I lost the first time, needed green tea for the second). By movie's end I felt no Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1122658508402306592005-07-29T20:33:00.000+03:002005-07-29T20:35:08.413+03:00Once upon a time oval bumper stickers on the back of cars were just European country identifiers, distinguishing anonymous numeric plates for cross-border traffic. In America people adopted their ancestral nation's stickers as a badge and their message was pretty straight forward. Once you'd learned that "E" stands for Spain and "H" for Switzerland, you were sufficiently versed in the language Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1121785294249594532005-07-19T18:00:00.000+03:002005-07-19T18:01:34.256+03:00Of Bikes & BunniesEach morning I expect my morning commute to be easier than the last. Each morning I cruise the same flats, climb the same hills and descend the same slopes, but every morning feels like it might kill me. Increased morning humidity and temperatures play some role in that; it is pretty hot, morning or not. This morning, though I timed my ride after weeks of not doing so and wasLeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1120678408537219822005-07-06T22:32:00.000+03:002005-07-19T18:05:25.206+03:00Assume an Error & Stick to ItLadybugs have a good life. Not only do bodily toxins protect them from becoming a bird's lunch or a frog's supper, they kill harmful pests and are pretty enough to charm to most squeamish ladies. Ladybugs are attractive and good, a winning combination in our day and age.Or, at least most are. Turns out the orange variety I've watched on my squash plants, Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1120582402908075842005-07-05T19:52:00.000+03:002005-07-05T19:53:22.913+03:00Where have the floats gone? Annapolis' 4th of July parade had many nice things, but almost no floats. Candidate after candidate running in 2006, but little else. The kids loved the candy, but outside the placards, there was no creative efforts made to dazzle. Groups of mini owners, corvettes and PT Cruisers, fire trucks, GARBAGE TRUCKS!!! and Street sweepers, but no kids on crepe draped bikesLeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1119972749574292282005-06-28T18:31:00.000+03:002005-06-28T18:34:32.320+03:00I think I want to change that poem slightly. The title was too explanatory, and I removed a verse.Utah Valley RevisitedThe rocky peak of Timpanogos rulesthe valley (where each year more houses spreadin stuccoed testament to fruitful people).Directions here are given not as right& left, but east, west, north or south, becauseTimp's rocky peak is there to anchor the way.Generations ago my family Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1119827920358771642005-06-27T01:54:00.000+03:002005-06-28T18:36:47.076+03:00I've been in Utah now for ten days. It's always interesting to return to Utah Valley and see what's changed and what has remained the same beneath it all. I am surprised how familiar the streets and houses are. How formative this place was to me.We camped near Moab for a couple days. Frequent thunderstorms (rare, but welcome) brought relief to the incredible heat. Red rock walls, long dusty roadsLeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1118546025373653942005-06-12T06:12:00.000+03:002005-06-12T06:13:45.373+03:00I deleted several posts from February 2004. They had to do with a certain Finnish politician. I felt bad for the people searching for her and finding this site. I guess that was the largest non-friendly traffic I generate.Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1118412858027289752005-06-10T17:03:00.000+03:002005-06-10T17:14:18.033+03:00The Stagnant PoolThey pushed for change & rolled the waters back,the same river flowed past the same worn stones.& what joy stepping in the same stream twice.Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1118411296991778932005-06-10T16:44:00.000+03:002005-06-10T21:08:39.150+03:00After the AA GameAbove the right field fence rockets flare& shine like fragile stars clean & briefIf only living would burn so brightmy fractured, wispy heart might find peaceLeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1118331192174177882005-06-09T18:28:00.000+03:002005-06-10T17:15:19.546+03:00It was the prettiest thinghe'd ever seen;Redder than a fire truck,sleek as a fighter plane.So he took his timefinding the perfect stone;It sat in the curl of his palmsmooth as an egg.& took his timeas he screwed back to throw,wanting that cardinalfor his very own. Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1118240994522448372005-06-08T17:24:00.000+03:002005-06-08T17:29:54.526+03:00Mulberries cover half my deck each morning, falling from a neighbor's tree; crumbs fallen from the night's buffet. Sunday morning, sitting on a new IKEA deck chair, sipping black coffee, eating Jewish rye with red current jelly, I watched the local critters eat their own breakfasts; cardinals, mockingbirds, finches, and squirrels. A blue jay's approach unleashed many shrill tweets from a pair of Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1117809393049206202005-06-03T17:35:00.000+03:002005-06-03T17:37:23.233+03:00I stood against the behemoth, straight and fierce. I waved my sword, screamed in native fury.Its stride never broke. My hottest assaults slid off it like water from a mountain. Broken, retreat is my only option.Now that the behemoth is my foe.Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1116342786251028882005-05-17T18:10:00.000+03:002005-05-17T18:13:06.256+03:00Writing ahead of the storm, perhaps words will keep me dry. I reach into darkness, grasping for hope. Somewhere, deep within me, there is a way to ride out the fiercest storms; there are roots whose depths I cannot imagine. Roots my conscious splinter cannot fathom.Confronting fears one by one is like swatting at flies with a pencil. It's better to use that pencil to find pieces of myself Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1115049587119478762005-05-02T18:52:00.000+03:002005-05-02T18:59:47.120+03:00________________________________________I wrote this poem on 29 January 2002. I found it again and think it deserves better than a wine stained notebook. It's part of a perpetual series of drunk pieces/thoughts. My proximity to drunks in Helsinki was amplified by using public transportation and their relatively commonplace position in society, but their state made me consider what kinds of Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1114612246337229662005-04-27T17:29:00.000+03:002005-04-27T17:31:23.180+03:00He told me to dream small,So I did what I could:Found work without future& waited for Friday.Cleaned house on Saturday,kept clutter at arms length,& passed Sunday in peace,without gods or garbage.But in each dream all dreamsare held like mirrored halls;one implies anotheruntil a dreamer's heartis filled with vague longingsthat can't be satisfied.Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1113842623615454222005-04-18T19:35:00.000+03:002005-04-18T19:43:43.616+03:00Yesterday the family watched baseball at RFK. Even after the beautiful day, excellent seats, and exciting game I can't say I'm onboard with the Nationals. My boss gave me four tickets to the game and so the family went. The enthusiasm of the stadium during the 7th inning rally was an indicator of how much Washington wants to root for their new team. But I couldn't muster much celebratory Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1111084899818287092005-03-17T20:41:00.000+02:002005-03-17T20:41:39.816+02:00Here it is... Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1111084451841149362005-03-17T20:34:00.000+02:002005-03-17T20:34:11.843+02:00My current computer wallpaper is of Owen and Matilda running on the sand in Ocean City with the sunset reflecting in the eastern sky and crashing waves. It is from our Sunday trip with Mats and Heidi. Looking at it, Owen asked where the sound was. It was his first time on the ocean shore (since he was a baby) and the waves made a deep impression. I made an mpeg on Assateague earlier in the Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1111023148992917532005-03-17T03:30:00.000+02:002005-03-17T03:32:28.993+02:00How long has it taken to craft a new motto? It might seem like I've followed the advice already, but no... Today, resonating through my head:Shut the fuck up and live.Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1106058988270170422005-01-18T16:35:00.000+02:002005-01-18T16:37:05.086+02:00Outside my office window brilliant clouds drift through frozen blue. Our silent journeys mingle until I can't tell where I end and they begin.Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1105719618475795202005-01-14T18:12:00.000+02:002005-01-14T18:20:18.476+02:00It's tough watching my family's lives disrupted. That's how I think of it, too. I don't see the disruption in my own life; I didn't feel more than longing for my family when I first returned to Maryland; Where are my feelings?
Partly, I'm used to constant uprooting. My personal history is replete with disruption. At seven my mother moved us to Oulu and then back to American Fork a year later; AtLeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1102531817306289102004-12-08T20:50:00.000+02:002004-12-08T20:50:17.306+02:00Assateague Dune Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1101041815174105892004-11-21T14:56:00.000+02:002004-11-21T14:56:55.173+02:00Winter walking... Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1100292980608425962004-11-12T22:56:00.000+02:002004-11-12T22:56:20.606+02:00It's me! Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1100042315666439632004-11-10T01:18:00.000+02:002004-11-10T01:18:35.666+02:00Catoctin Mountain Park. Where many a smokey moment was spent this last weekend. Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1098844357703112842004-10-27T05:24:00.000+03:002004-10-27T05:32:37.703+03:00I worried beetles
crept in the mulch
& feared the falling leaves
red fire.
I wanted more from summer
than gourds & pumkins,
stubbled fields & indian corn.
I wasted myself dreaming
of warm nights,
of crickets singing to the stars.
Until the darkness of change
passed & instead of tears
for faded green, I rejoiced
in yellow;
looked forward to black fingers,
frosted whiteLeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1097012257968933782004-10-06T01:30:00.000+03:002004-10-06T00:37:37.966+03:00I looked again today at the sand castle photographs Melina sent me. The scene was so beautiful, Kasinonranta at sunset. The water looked so still, the kids as calm, proud of their work. It touched me deeply, sparking scenes from the past three years. Finnish beauty is so wispy; it shines from a sudden freshness of clean lines and disappears like a startled rabbit.
Earlier today, driving intoLeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1093591634457535832004-08-27T10:17:00.000+03:002004-08-27T10:27:14.456+03:00Rain again; all night
wind blew the drops
against my window,
as I tossed from desire
to regret, pacing
my mind's frontiers;
searching for what?
Soon I'll be elsewhere,
thinking other thoughts;
thinking how I miss
yesterday's trouble
& dreams. Backwards
isn't an option.
Trees don't wither
into their roots.
They push upward
until, at last,
the rot gets them
or a storm breaks them
...maybe agesLeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1091599972182695272004-08-04T09:10:00.000+03:002004-08-04T09:12:52.183+03:00I changed the comment link to Blogger's own comments. I just noticed they include this option now. I guess I lose the previous comments, (or at least they are not show) but I think this may turn out better. I noticed recently that Haloscan lost some of the older comments anyway. Plus, Blogger will send me email when I get a new comment. That's cool.
Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1091442136576744722004-08-02T13:13:00.000+03:002004-08-02T13:23:22.686+03:00Last words, immortal words, words that never go away...
Steve posted a question about such things, but has since removed it. I did not answer then, but have spent time mulling them over, so though his words proved fleeting, I'll make my digital answer last.
Caveat: Be careful what you set in stone, the words may outlast their relevance.
In a drawer at home I keep a tape my father made for me Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1091437458569060382004-08-02T12:03:00.000+03:002004-08-02T12:04:18.570+03:00Apartment for rent ad in the Capital:ANNAP/CAPE ST JOHN 1BR, garage apt. separate LR, kitchen & deck. Quiet, familyoriented commty. No children, no pets. $750/mo.That's funny.
Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1091300818849428302004-07-31T22:05:00.000+03:002004-07-31T22:06:58.850+03:00It's been too long, I know. It's not that I haven't had the time or been too stressed out to write; it's more that when I dip into the well for the words, the bucket comes up dry. Failing inspiration, I'll pump the well full with grim determination.
A dry anything is surprising, since it's all rain, all the time this summer. More water fell in Wednesday than is normal in a month. And showersLeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1089551896575927682004-07-11T16:06:00.000+03:002004-07-11T16:21:36.603+03:00Two fourteen year old nihilists came cruising out of the woods, recklessly pulling up to the Siwa door. I stood outside the shop waiting for Melina and Owen. Before too long the boys came out with suckers. They pulled the wrappers off and dropped them on the ground. The old curmudgeon I am becoming stirred into action. "Is that a trash can?", I asked the boys. Surprised, defiant looks Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1089377750174698702004-07-09T15:40:00.000+03:002004-07-09T15:55:50.173+03:00Today is my last work day for three weeks. Though the weather is still pretty awful, I'm looking forward to resting, relaxing, and generally pissing away my time in pleasantly unproductive ways. Here's to time away.
I finished Kingsley Amis' book The Old Devils yesterday. It was a bleakly funny, surprisingly deep look into aging and living in general. Perhaps the most amazing thing about it Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1089186203498117592004-07-07T10:34:00.000+03:002004-07-07T10:43:23.496+03:00Months after I replaced my work phone (keeping the old one), we openned an account for Matilda. Month after month she eagerly demanded, wished, and whined for a SIM card. Finally, her dreams have come true. Her face radiated achievement as she handled the phone yesterday evening. There was a strut in her step, and glow in her eyes. This morning she called me without more to say than "How areLeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1087989226346341562004-06-23T14:12:00.000+03:002004-07-08T15:15:01.016+03:00I quit my job today. My last day will be August 31st. I think I'll return to Maryland on September 2nd. I feel so hopped up on adrenalin I don't know what to do. Jobless, homeless, foolish.Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1087800233394436922004-06-21T09:34:00.001+03:002004-06-23T10:19:34.846+03:00I was surprised by a line in the Washington Post:Intrigued, he placed a call to Defense Secretary Donald H. Rumsfeld, whose wife had served on the board at St. John's.The "he", in this case, is John Agresto, former president of St. John's College, Santa Fe. My surprise was hearing that Rummy's wife has served on the SJC board. I feel a little sullied by the contact. Whenever I think of Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1085661285860307092004-05-27T15:33:00.000+03:002004-05-27T16:16:46.106+03:00This morning I found a pen and funky post-it notepad next to our workplace coffee machine. Unlike normal post-it notes, this pad is made up of four colors in narrow strips that peel off individually, probably for writing phone numbers down. While filling my morning cup with barely palatable coffee I wrote on two of the strips the words hiiri (mouse) and sika (pig). Throughout the day, much to Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1085487000153272222004-05-25T15:09:00.000+03:002004-05-25T15:12:30.796+03:00Blue skies,
late May.
I'm freezing.
That sums up my Sunday afternoon playing five hours of lousy baseball. I'm always amazed that late May in Finland can be so cold... Ok, not freezing cold, but cold enough to make jackets necessary and still feel chilly.
********************************************************************************
Matilda and Owen participated in the Lauttasaari Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1085136354541065222004-05-21T13:42:00.000+03:002004-05-21T13:45:54.540+03:00Who says poetry doesn't pay? Thursday morning I discovered that Grasslimb will give me $10 for a poem I wrote. It's a nice gesture since I've never been payed more than a contributor's copy or two. That works out to about $0.34½ per word. I'd offered her longer poems, but the editor went for the pricier one...
Interestingly enough I chose to send my poems to Grasslimb because after Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1084879475337966832004-05-18T14:21:00.000+03:002004-05-18T14:40:03.356+03:00Yellow daffodils,
radiant in the spring sun,
bloom early, & then?
But today, at last, it's raining an honest rain. Puddles gather on the factory roof below my office window. Wet cars on wet streets splash water in swollen gutters. I am contently melancholy: nostalgia and longing mingle with the gray clouds, keep time to the humming computers that surround me.
The year's daffodils are gone. Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1084790486847151412004-05-17T13:41:00.000+03:002004-05-17T13:41:26.846+03:00The Urhot failed to gather in sufficient numbers yesterday, so our scheduled doubleheader disolved into a few ragged innings of practice ball with the mighty Espoo Expos. It was actually pretty fun. Known more for their fiery take-no-prisoners attitude on the field, these Expos showed a softer side when it didn't matter. It all reminded me of recess baseball in elementary school when we Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1084266445590535122004-05-11T12:07:00.000+03:002004-05-11T12:07:25.590+03:00As befits the world's worst gift-giver, I did not have a Mother's Day present when Melina woke to Matilda's breakfast preparations on Sunday morning. It's not that I hadn't tried. It's not that I didn't have an opportunity. We'd spent hours on Saturday in stores looking at clothing and things. I'd been sent on an errand to one of the largest malls in the nordic countries Friday after work. Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1083925243101833272004-05-07T13:20:00.000+03:002004-05-17T13:42:17.553+03:00For the third year I'm playing baseball with the Urhot. We lost our first game 11-6 against the Vantaa Giants, but it was a good day anyway, what with the sun and warm weather (warmest 5th of May ever). The Giants are a good team to play since we match up pretty evenly against them. They are almost 100% expatriate Americans. Personally, I had a good game going 2-for-5, with one hit just Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1083580167010976142004-05-03T13:29:00.000+03:002004-05-03T13:33:07.076+03:00
Melina made a Lemon Meringue Pie from the American Classics cookbook. The result was delicious, though I only tasted a tiny pie she made just for me, since she took the rest to a bachelorette party that was more like a baby shower (appropriately enough, since the bride-to-be is more mother-to-be than bride). American Classics is a cookbook for wigged out perfectionists. It does have some Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1083579693455402502004-05-03T13:21:00.000+03:002004-05-03T13:27:25.873+03:00I think this blog has not accurately portayed me. It says too little about what makes me happy, what makes up my days, and generally leaves the impression of a maudlin boy that never outgrew his teenage pathos. I will attempt to remedy this by inserting more of what makes me happy.
That said, as I hope anyone that knows me will say, one thing about me is certain: I love food. I love trying Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1083495364802608362004-05-02T13:56:00.000+03:002004-05-02T14:22:33.810+03:00Brave May World
The weather came out for Vappu (or Wappu, or May Day). And when the sun shines, the people celebrate. On Friday evening, Havis Amanda received her ylioppilaslakki (a student cap, received after graduation from lukio, a non-compulsory high school) and the Hoggard's braved the reveling crowd of Esplanadi to buy balloons for the kids. Owen bought a small Teletubby one in the Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1083239205323491462004-04-29T14:46:00.000+03:002004-04-29T14:50:03.013+03:00I worry about the troubled monsters of an untroubled sleep; in the morning sun, nothing seems impossible.Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5680322.post-1083221799207984692004-04-29T09:56:00.000+03:002004-04-29T09:59:44.403+03:00Below is a letter some of you may remember. I still remember it. Virtanen was in her eighties, single all her life, and an original resident in our building, completed in 1952. When the sun slants into the stairwell, the ghostly image of "Virtanen" is still clealy visible on the mail slot above the "Bergman" of the current resident.
From 31 January 2002
Coming home from work, I saw a police Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14140543912600770587noreply@blogger.com0