Poetry

I am in love with the poetry of Billy Collins.  He writes the most beautiful, fully meaningful, pieces that sink to the stomach with light well crafted words that carry a lifetime of feeling.  If you don't know him personally, I highly suggest that you become acquainted.  

Some nights while laying awake daydreaming, resting or reading I hear a sound that reminds me of the sorrowful call of a mystic ocean creature straight out of tales of Sinbad or Odysseus. It brings my mind to fanciful stories that are accentuated by the enveloping damp air of the seclusion of night.  So far I have deduced the non-fanciful source of the sound to a) some part of the trimet system stopping or starting, wheels squeaking on cold wet metal or b) the Oregonian printing press starting up.  I think its the latter, but I'm not sure if either of my theories are correct.  I bring it up for two reasons.  One is that P-city is creative wonderland for aspiring writers and artists, the sounds, sights, richness in color, and personality all add to stories and inspiration that one can't help be want to produce to reproduce.  Its been wonderful.  The second reason is is that I think the sound is the same sound that begins The Decemberists song "The Infanta."  Living in their city of origin makes their fokelore based music not only make sense but all the more inviting to listen to.  

I'm going to make dinner tonight.  Its going to be Baked sweet potatoes topped with a salad of mixed organic greens cold rice and tomatoes over a homemade chili made with blackbeans, yellow, red, and orange bell peppers and yellow squash that will be topped with pepperjack cheese peach salsa and unsweetened yogurt. Hopefully it will turn out well.  

When I'm done with this post I'm going to type up and post another poem that I have written during my time here so far.  Its not the beautiful sad yet uplifting work of Billy Collins, but its mine and I'm attached.  It's somewhat deep, and not so happy, which may be reflected of the anxiety of moving and the lonliness of being away from familiar people and places.  

I am becoming increasingly more curious to discover how many applications and resume's one such as myself needs to turn in before landing a job.  Lets just say that the count is quickly rising above thirty. 

All hope is not lost something will turn up.