Tuesday, February 10, 2015

My Love, I've Petitioned the Curator Who Has Acquired an Empty Chest Representing All the Poems You Will Now Never Write




Sunday we drove to Cleveland. We'd been through Cleveland once, sort of, 271 to 90, on one of our Planet college visit trips. That one was Oberlin to Kenyon to Hamilton to Allegheny. You know, the one when we met Landru






and Ilse at a Ponderosa in Meadville. People can vouch. Here's what we do when we visit Planet: we take long drives. We've done east and southeast and south and not southwest and west and northwest (not much) and north but not northeast. We decided to go to Cleveland and see the Cleveland Museum of Art.







So cool, the drive, the museum, the day, one of my best days ever. HEY! so I've got new images to make a new header along the lines of the current header. If you see any in the above slideshow you think should be included please give me a description and tell me the second count, I'll add it to a batch of new headers. Or not, you telling me, me creating the header. Also too, the bottom photo, proof that I have the ears of Dr Sevrin, and who the fuck uses sillyass Star Trek allusions anyway?






IN THE MUSEUM OF LOST OBJECTS

Rebecca Lindenberg

You’ll find labels describing what is gone:
an empress’s bones, a stolen painting
                                  
of a man in a feathered helmet
holding a flag-draped spear.
                           
A vellum gospel, hidden somewhere long ago
forgotten, would have sat on that pedestal;
                   
this glass cabinet could have kept the first
salts carried back from the Levant.
                   
To help us comprehend the magnitude
of absence, huge rooms
                             
lie empty of their wonders—the Colossus,
Babylon’s Hanging Gardens and
                         
in this gallery, empty shelves enough to hold
all the scrolls of Alexandria.
                      
My love, I’ve petitioned the curator
who has acquired an empty chest
                  
representing all the poems you will
now never write. It will be kept with others
                            
in the poet’s gallery. Next door,
a vacant room echoes with the spill
                             
of jewels buried by a pirate who died
before disclosing their whereabouts.
                       
I hope you don’t mind, but I have kept
a few of your pieces
                                            
for my private collection. I think
you know the ones I mean.



6 comments:

  1. I vote for the crazed grinning death cat ceramic on the bottom, or whatever it is but I like it. But does this mean rock dildo clutching Kirk &/or Siegfried are going? I hope not.

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    1. Nah, the current is the permanent, I might make a new one or two to swap out for a day or two here and there (I used to do it all the time) but mostly this is an excuse to post at least four gags that make me laugh.

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  2. Was that Dick Cheney in there? I could have sworn... He's in trouble with the Tribbles, or so I believe.

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  3. Congrats for visiting Cleveland. I've done it, but they made me do it.
    ~

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    Replies
    1. Oh yeah, I vote for the death cat, too. Does it count?
      ~

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  4. speaking of cleveland reminds me of the cleveland clinic, which reminds me of dr caldwell esselstyn's book Prevent and Reverse Heart Disease: The Revolutionary, Scientifically Proven, Nutrition-Based Cure

    http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/prevent-and-reverse-heart-disease-caldwell-b-esselstyn/1103850809?ean=9781583333006

    ReplyDelete