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25 May 2007





I have no poetry, alas, but I do have baby bluebirds. Just yesterday, I saw a flash of blue at the woods' edge. A male bluebird, followed closely by a spotted youngster. I couldn't be prouder if I had hatched them myself :-)

John B.

Lovely--all of it. I'm glad you're on my blogroll.

I'm sure there are bad poems by Neruda, but they are mythical beasts. I have yet to run across them.


Vera: There you are - the birds always get to you, don't they?

Entangled: I'm proud too. These are my first bluebirds to nest in my yard, and I've loved watching them. When I thought that the babies had met a horrid fate, I was quite sad - so I was thrilled to see them again, flying all around. The blue is amazing, isn't it?

John B.: Have you ever read his Odes to Common Things (like the table, and a chair, and spoons...). They are amazing, they transform the object yet are so simple. I wonder if somewhere there exists the bad Neruda poems, the 'throwaway' file so to speak - but as you say, they are most likely mythical beasts.

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