Recitation: an archipelago

Once I lived on an island
where I knew I was loved  /  Once I was an island
and I trusted beyond reason  /  Almost floating
though I had no reason not to.  /  my feet alleged to be

 resting in volcanoes, but still I  /  Once, on an island where I lived
was senseless of my roots  /   I sat on the beach
I was alone under the sky for  /  and hurt was all the weather
as far as I could see  /  hurt was in the wind
I was full of light,  /  and a current
and the farthest thing from God  /  moving at an angle to
suspended, /  the line of shore
inviolable,  /  and I was the sea bottom
myself a place where  /  being moved but
silence answered  /  little changed.

itself for days.

A good Monday

As in, one on which I wake on time, and Brianna and I catch the right train. One on which I have a bagel to toast at work, and enough time to do what I need. $2 miso at lunch, and ballet class in the evening. "Are you a redhead? Show me with your eyes. Your head is in the right place, but your eyes - YES!" Not much luck with the pirouettes, but satisfying work with the rest of the exercises. It is important for me to be absorbed, especially by things that aren't work, and to be moving. Right now I have both.

2015 in books

I read 52 books in 2015. You can see the full list here. (You might have to be my friend on Goodreads first - not sure.)

My favorites:

The Ocean at the End of the Lane, by Neil Gaiman (2013)

The Price of Salt, by Patricia Highsmith (1952)

Rat Bohemia, by Sarah Schulman (1995)

Between Us: A Legacy of Lesbian Love Letters, ed. by Kay Turner (1996)

Spinster's Rock, by Caeia March (1999)

The Mysterious Howling (The Incorrigible Children of Ashton Place #1), by Maryrose Wood (2009)

A whole bunch of Dykes to Watch Out For, by Alison Bechdel (1986-2000)

I Am Malala, by Malala Yousafzai and Christina Lamb (2012)

Last light, 2015

My friend Odessa and I met up for tea/coffee in Japantown yesterday and then drove to Land's End to watch the last sunset of 2015.

I chose to ring in the New Year with a late-night yoga class. Notes: dark studio, the streetlights outside + battery-powered "candles" for light. I hadn't been to yoga in about two years. The instructor murmured, "And happy new year..." at the end of the set of instructions she happened to be giving when the clock struck midnight.

 My sad tired mantra these last few weeks has been "What would winter be without struggle?" but part of the opening quotation for the class was: "Banish the word struggle from your attitude and your vocabulary. All that we do now must be done in a sacred manner and in celebration."