A Quote for the Day

"Faith and knowledge lean largely upon each other in the practice of medicine."

— Peter Mere Latham

Peter Mere Latham (July 1, 1789 – July 20, 1875) was an English physician and educator.

Overheard at Table 4: Dialogue with a Compassionate Conservative

MR:  I can’t believe that the ISD has 70 million dollars for a high-school football stadium but still can’t feed all the grade school kids.

 

COMPASSIONATE CONSERVAIVE: That’s not the school’s job that’s the parents’ job.

 

MR: Easy to say when you can.

Overheard at Table 4: Y'all Better Pray

"Y'all just better pray there ain't no Fanatical-Islamic-inspired attack of any kind because the resulting Fascist police state clampdown will make the Patriot Act look like a day at the spa."

Overheard at Table 3: Chaffetz back at home in Utah

Jason Chaffetz was at a town hall last night.  Thousands inside, hundreds more outside.  Lots of chanting and shouting, I mean these guys are pissed OFF.

But what got me was one question in particular, the question was "Now that a sexual predator is in the White House, what are you going to do to protect women's rights?"

The guy then launches into this long speech about how he's going to let the EPA and the National Park Service dismiss employees without any problem.  Apparently for years they've been telling him that they are rife with sexual predators and just can't seem to get rid of them.

I mean, SERIOUSLY?!  This is the best he can come up with?  He's not even GOOD at the pivot!"

Poem: Moonlight, Moons Ago

Moonlight, Moons Ago

 

The moonlight, many moons

ago, would splash liquid mercury

 

across the sharpened grass, black

ened from day’s summer sun.

 

The silver glow would recede, then,

into the farmer’s field, beyond

 

the barbed-wire fence, where once

I had cut open my head, jumping

 

through, while trying to catch

an errant cat.   Several moons ( and

 

several cats) after, the farmer’s

field was plowed under, rutted

 

into clay and dirt patterns, a

schematic for the cement roads

 

which foreshadowed houses,

larger than our houses, until

 

at last, the city finally buried the

memory of the farmer’s field.

 

But the moon did not forget.

The moon never forgets.

 

The moon merely pulls back,

recedes, turns away, some would

 

say “sadly,” a dull grey shadow

against the black asphalt shingles

 

of houses burned and black

ened from the day’s summer sun.

MR

2016-0208

John Prine "All the Best"

1990.   Anglo/Irish TV, which is really just another soundstage at the Zen and Tao Acoustic Café

Overread at Table 1: A Fold of Sun by Magdalena Zurawski

A Fold of Sun

Magdalena Zurawski

We decided I
should go alone
on foot. I  

would find
him in
the pharmacy. If     

he said ‘In
the head of
God all propositions    

have existed    
always,’ we would make    
the exchange.

He was standing    
in front of the     
calamine lotion.

He spoke to the
air. I slipped  
the envelope into


his pocket and   
bought a topical     
analgesic to


avoid suspicion.      
When I left, I           
had a face    


again, could open
an account, drink         
coffee in the


sun. On the street two    
women talked     
of money. I paid them


no mind. I    
could now always      
walk with my light


to the front.  

Copyright © 2016 by Magdalena Zurawski. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on June 21, 2016, by the Academy of American Poets.