Category: Vincent
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NaPoWriMo Draft 5.
Warning: Cloying Child Story Ahead: Vincent had just woken up, and I was changing him from his pajamas to day clothes. “I love you,” said I. “No way!” said my baby. “I love you,” I repeated with some consternation. “No way!” said my baby. “I love you!” I wailed. “Hug!” cried Vincent. “Kiss!” Already a…
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Black Eye of Night.
For the past month or so, I’ve been working on weaning Vincent — he’s 2, it’s well past time. When he was born I thought he’d have been weaned many moons ago, but this last year has been full of changes, which he’s been a really good sport about, so it just wasn’t going to…
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Poetry Q & A’s: A Short Take.
Between working until 8pm yesterday and visiting some of Vincent’s friends today, I managed to finish the new issue of Poetry, including the Q & A’s with the poets, and I have to say, they’re not a terribly valuable contribution. By & large, I found the poets’ answers stiff, stilted, super-self-conscious, and boring (though W.S.…
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Reading Recap & Poetry
Oh, the reading last night with Pat & Tim was just great. Tim was so genial & at ease as he read, his commentary spare, the verbal equivalent of white space on the page for me, gave his poems air to breathe. And Pat reads with this little smile on her face, like she can’t…
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Patricia Fargnoli.
When not getting exactly as he wishes, Vincent has taken to plaintively crying, “Honey, please. Please, Honey.” Honey? It’s very unsettling. * Readers continue to discover this blog because of my bout with shingles. Also unsettling. * I was paging through Pat’s newest book of poems, Duties of the Spirit (Tupelo Press, 2005.) wondering which…
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Butterflies & Bulls.
I keep a certain picture of Vincent behind the counter at the bookshop: he’s sitting on the grassy lawn of our old house, studying a daisy in his fingers. Very sweet, yes? Today, Lance took Vincent to the Magic Wings Butterfly Conservatory & Gardens in Deerfield. It’s large, it’s warm (a nice contrast to the…
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Snow. Falling. Down.
That’s how Vincent speaks, one word, full stop, then the next. And no more than three words in a row. But we understand each other, and that’s a constant revelation: we look at each other in utter astonishment several times every day. So it’s snowing again, very hard, much much snow. It’s been snowing since…
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FYI: Soap in mouth=yucky.
Vincent is much calmer this evening, sitting at the table eating his blueberry “ee-gurt” (i.e. yogurt), but last night was an entirely different story. Among another unspeakable acts, he decided to eat a chunk of soap — I guess it looked creamy & delicious to him — but oh, the reaction once it was in…
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The Accidental Pugilist.
Vincent and I decided to go for a walk today before the big storm arrived, and, as is customary, we ended by heading for the Glacial Potholes. Vincent was carrying a large chunk of frozen snow that he was keen to pitch into the rushing water, and I let him because, well, he looked so…
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Monday, Monday…
A day without drama or excitement or good/bad news, just Vincent & I hanging out. Vincent (aka My Little Petri Dish) has a cold, so he’s subdued and amenable to quiet reading & coloring time, which suits me perfectly any day (I have latent reclusive tendencies), but especially today — a poem’s been bubbling around…
Marie Gauthier 