Looniness

I’ve been away from the blog for most of the summer, life has taken on a looniness, a zannyness as i plan a move and renovation of a house built in 1912 on a steep hillside in downtown Juneau (the purple one with red roof hiding up the hill). Been planning, learning all about new elements of construction and building science since late april and it’s finally here, so i’ll be busy for like the next few months. any new poems will likely be about swinging a hammer or looney toons. yes, loony toons. a few weeks ago there was this great article in the wall street journal of all places by billy collins about warner brothers’ influence on his poetry and perspective

Here’s a billy collins poem from the article, an ode to a pig.

Porky

Happy only
when he is gardening alone
far from conversation
and the terrible stammering
far from Petunia, nag and tease
just resting on a hoe
unembarrassed
as he contemplates
the blue background of his flat world —
a Zen pig.

___

And i found this while doing some research on alaska writer laureate, John Straley, discovered that he’s a damn fine poet (should have attended his haiku workshop at kachemak bay) and that his son is also named finn.

Wile E. Coyote Considers the Obvious
By John Straley

There seem to be countless routes
to my well planned failures:
I really thought the rocket
shoes would work.

And the anvil carried across the chasm
on the tight wire rope
seemed reasonable at the time
but now, I wonder?

I lay in bed this morning
my ears bent, my knees swollen
knowing that He was out there but
thinking maybe I shouldn’t go.

Maybe I should stay in bed
all day long and read a book
or listen to the news on the radio
but truthfully, I am not meant for that.

Too much introspection is bad for a coyote
and besides, my wife doesn’t want me around
tapping my toes, fidgeting with the dynamite
and alarm clocks, the birdseed and suction cups.

She says I have to go
that God must have given me this desire
for some good reason, even if only
to provoke his remote, unfathomable laughter.

“And what do we get?” she says, “We get the ability
to take a punch and become uncrumpled
with every flattening. We can fall through the air
all our lives and land virtually unhurt.”

“And besides, what would you do if you caught him?
such a skinny bird could not feed you through his
long, unknowable life we blunder through
day by day by day.