“Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,/ the muttering retreats / of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels” …..I feel far closer to Bukowski, after the horse races and this cozy, cheap room, than the luxuries we saw today of Eliot’s youth. We plan to return to St Louis, someday.

Caught a Pigeon at the Alamo

Waddling around the San Antonio Festival was a pigeon with it’s feet gnarled by a thin red string that still connected his legs. Every few steps he took he’d fall over, and flounder his wings to keep balance. After a few failed attempts at nabbing him, he became distracted enough by a little girl throwing out bread for the birds that I scooped him up and we explained to the little girl and her mom that the bird was all tangled, and we weren’t scaring her birds. After securing his flapping wings, we looked at his feet, all puffy and grown over the string to the point of the skin looking like boils. I calmed him, while Andrew used his pocket knife to cut the thread in several places and we pulled out what we could. He flew up onto a concrete ledge after I put him down, and experimented with walking instead of waddling, after a squirrel with a big treasured nut scarred him, he seemed to get the idea. We left him preening, seated naturally, rather than ‘fallen over’. Wonder how long he’d had that string? Since he was young, since his skin was so grown over it? At least he’ll be able to walk now and not trip every third step. I love birds. A good way to remember the Alamo ; ) Sorry, couldn’t help myself there….

Memories. Can you have a photojournalistic self portrait?
Small poem exercise: take a stack of letters (in this case a peeled bananagrams bag) and surreally finish the line ‘I am a….’. This is my first attempt, sitting beneath our budding bee-filled rosebud tree. I love how mossy it is here.
For Grama, who passed a year ago today. I took this picture of her blooming gladiolus at her house when we stayed there for Karen’s wedding last summer. I like how simple it looks, and beautiful.
Happy St. Patrick’s Day; I hope everyone will be celebrating. Life should be celebrated and filled with good memories, so share your love today : )
Looks a bit ‘Tim Burton’ and I like it. 

Poem: "Constellations"

By Cari Grindem-Corbett

in Current Issue of WLA. Cari’s poem “Constellations” was originally published in WLA (War, Literature, and the Arts: An International Journal for the Humanities), and appeared in Volume 22, 2010. 

I can’t tell you his name. 

I shouldn’t tell you who he is 

because of who he was, and when. 

Download the full poem directly from WLA’s website to see the poem as it appeared in print, Full Poem (PDF)

The little dwarf irises have begun blooming beneath the budding cherry weeping willow in our studio’s garden, planted by my Mum : )