Things we didn't do.

Yesterday, I did not buy this book:

Denise Levertov, from
Oblique Prayers

nor this:

Franz Wright,
God's Silence

--not this either:

Ted Hughes,
Birthday Letters

I didn't really seriously even consider this, because I think I already have it.

Federico Garcia Lorca,
Poet in New York

I am now regretting all of them.

We went downtown because the historian and his co-author were going to speak at a series of events arranged to celebrate May Day, organized (loosely) by two Socialist groups. Somehow the wires got crossed (I am particularly proud of my mot for this occasion: "For Socialists, they're not as organized as you might think." BAM.), and we did not, in the end, find ourselves at the location of the actual events. So we had lunch with our friend, the co-author, and then, because our movie was not starting for a couple of hours, we stopped into Ken Sanders'. That's where I picked up each of the above books and read in them for a little while. I should have bought them. They are all right up my alley, even the Lorca that I think I have, may or may not have.

I hate refusing things that present themselves. I hate saying no. Most of all I hate recalcitrance in myself. What am I saving myself for? What, exactly?

What we did do was come home and read this and that. We watched a thing or two and ate some food that happened to be lying around. We walked the dog and admired the beautiful cool weather.  We both slept a little in various nooks around the house. I made cookie dough and let it cure. It was quiet. Quiet seems to be the thing I need to say yes to right now.

Couplet. This may actually be the last one. The very last one.