mimsy and outgrabe

I wasn't going to post anything today (despite another posting dry spell) because I'm in the middle of mid-semester grading (papers, papers, and now exams to add to the pile) -- but Brooklyn Copeland has a poem on the New York Times site , and I thought I'd repost it for two reasons. First, I think this "Poetry Pairings" feature is really fucking cool, and thanks to Copeland, I've just discovered it. Second, I think her poem is really fucking cool, too.  Her bio, which serves as an introduction to the poem (I'm not sure how I feel about that , NYT) points out that she's one of the youngest contributors to the Poetry Magazine anthology, "The Open Door: One Hundred Poems, One Hundred Years of Poetry Magazine." Age really shouldn't play a part in whether we think a poem (or a poet) is remarkable or not, and I think that's what the bio sets us up for -- however, the poem is remarkable no matter the age of the poet. It's qu

Wow. Quite a posting blackout, huh? I haven't really had anything to say for the past week -- I've been keeping my head down, trying to play catch-up where grading and class prep is concerned (and failing miserably). My mood, however, has been steadier during the past week, which is a really good thing. Less ambivalence, more genuine laughter. Over the years I've streamlined my courses so that I only grade what's absolutely necessary and I use a check/check minus system for the small assignments; and yet, frustratingly, I find myself faced -- every semester -- with a backlog of grading. And it's not for want of focus at work. I've been more focused than ever this semester. My friend and colleague A. jumped ship and went to another campus, so he's not around for me to pester when I feel like avoiding work -- and I'm not even sure I would have resorted to that old habit this semester, if he was around, simply because of the sheer desperation I f

It's Columbus Day, a holiday for the grade schools, so my non-duty day (Stuffolk's term for the day during the week we don't teach classes) will actually be filled with lots of duties, just not academic ones.  There are a lot of housekeeping details to take care of after our house was ransacked for the boy's 4th birthday party . . . which managed to be a good party for him -- really just one big play-date with his little friends, dressed in their superhero costumes, without a lot of structure but WITH a whole lot of chaos. Somehow, between the herculean efforts of my sister, her boyfriend, and my husband, we managed to get the house ready for the party even though, about two hours before the party was scheduled to begin, we had a major plumbing incident that covered most of the kitchen in debris from the garbage disposal and required dismantling part of the pipes in the basement.  I still don't know how A. managed to keep calm and cool and be persistent an

I don't have too much to say today. Hormones and my natural dispensation toward craziness have me looney and sad as a motherfu**er, and that doesn't really mix well with all of the work I have to do, both at the office and at home. My boy's 4th Birthday Super Hero Party (this weekend) might be the saddest 4th Birthday Super Hero Party of all time if I don't get my act together. In the meantime, between now and whenever I DO get my act together (and find time to write a real post), here's a really wonderful poem for you to read by my good friend A.P. up on the web site of Cider Press Review.