Allen Ginsberg (via apoetreflects)
So, Maj tells us in class these stories about actual conversations with Ginsberg. I guess he knew him.
Thinking what you really think. Yes. That is my poetry and Maude help me.
You will become
of all the women
you once were
before you rise
in your own skin.
You will swallow
before you taste
held within your own.
No, John, you’re so right
I just can’t talk about Lindsay’s playing or I’ll make a mess up in this place.
I chose the book haphazard
from the shelf, but with Nabokov’s first
sentence I knew it wasn’t the thing
to read to a dying man:
The cradle rocks above the abyss, it began,
and common sense tells us that our existence
is but a brief crack of light
between two eternities of darkness
The words disturbed both of us immediately,
and I stopped. With music it was the same—
Chopin’s piano concerto—he asked me
to turn it off …
But to return to the cradle rocking. I think
Nabokov had it wrong. This is the abyss.
That’s why babies howl at birth,
and why the dying so often reach
for something only they can apprehend.
Jane Kenyon, from “Reading Aloud to My Father,” in Poetry (February 1995)
Read that and tell me it didn’t punch you in the gut.
Let the record reflect the conclusive result of empirical research spanning 27 studies from 10 countries: healthy eating is fucking expensive and people who deny this reality are annoying and full of shit.
Truth. Especially if you live in a food desert.
And the Big Pharm Phood Phuckers are right there with their cheap and easy subsidized calories ready to feed the masses and rake in the profits. I have so many interesting conversations with people at the market every week about this – folks who now depend on the monthly $10 match we provide to SNAP customers for the chance to put something like chemical-free kale or turnips or butternut squash on the table for a few days.
How ‘bout we as a society - as eaters - as consumers of this beautiful thing called food - push our legislators to subsidize our 1-50(ish) acre small family farms that are producing diverse crops of organic (not necessarily certified because that’s a bit of a shell game now, too) fruits, vegetables, and grains. Let’s give more of that subsidy cut to the people who are growing real food in real communities, and to people who are raising pastured meats and dairy, keeping heritage breeds alive in the face of the rising petrie dish food culture.
Sorry about that last unruly sentence. I gotta go make dinner, though, so… and my meal is not cheap or highly processed or full of empty calories, and I am damn lucky that I am able to afford to eat so well. Damn lucky.
And I can have Doritos or a Whopper if I want to, but by no stretch of the imagination do I feel like it’s my easiest or only choice. As I said, I’m damn lucky. I’m lucky that I grew up in a family that made decent food on the table a priority, and then I was blessed to learn so much more working with some incredible chefs, and then farmers.
So there’s my disjointed Sunday evening food for thought.