Monday's Poem is Full of Links Having Nothing to Do With Poetry

First off, my guest post about remembering the Cleveland Downtown library is up today at Little Big's blog. You know what's weird? Writing about a library for a librarian. Also it's weird that I know so many librarians. And we almost never talk about books.

Second, Erin O'Brien woke me up this morning with a message on twitter that she had left me a "shoutout" on her blog. Really what she did was write something about fairy tale folk which is way better than mine. So if you are one of the fifty people who told me how much they liked my Glossary of Fairy Tale Terminology, you should definitely go read her's.

This weeks Poetry Jam prompt is thunder and lightning. It's been raining for the last week here in Cleveland, so maybe this will help wring out my waterlogged skin.


The shattering silence of storms
The blanketing balm of the rain
Towards the gutters we ran
And we shivered and shook
While the water made off with the earth.

Your skin was cold and resistant
Your touch was a cigarette burn
The jacket you gave me
Was too big to be warm
And your arm was too thick to be real.

The rain hit the reservoir lightly
The rocks and grass mingled with mud
There was some other girl
That you brought here once too
I smelt her in the thunder electric.

I'm Obsessed With Intent

Forward intent and backward intent are what the tango instructors tell us to have. Lean forward just a little, just enough to show your partner what you intend to do. Or, if you're the girl, lean back just the slightest bit. The girl is basically on only one foot the whole time, with all her weight shifting back and forth as he pivots her on the balls of her shiny shoes, and I have to learn the balance to do that, so that my own heels never touch the floor completely, but swing back and forth like music box dolls.

Dreadful Intent. Not dreadful like horrific, but dreadful as in powerful, intimidating, Napoleonic. The Dreadful intent is that which renders you helpless in its presence, either with face, voice, or pure ambition. I love it, and I keep my eyes open to spot it, mostly in men but sometimes in that one woman who walks into a room with strategy and cunning charm. The Dreadful Intent is what turns me on.

Elastic Intent. That which changes every time you come face to face with a situation. The gap between the prepared and the actual, where you want to say one thing, but then find face to face, you no longer feel that way and you accept it immediately. The Improvisation.

Going to tango is like going to yoga, or how I imagine yoga might be if I ever tried it, which is probably going to be never since I like beats over sitting still any day. It's moving meditation. Colleen and I went tonight, and then after the lessons were over and it was open dance, the men asked us to dance, and kept us in the active circuit of back and forth between the students, which was awfully thoughtful and encouraging of them, because really we're awful and slow and boxy, still counting to ourselves in our heads, and these guys are doing kicks and complicated turns. We don't have the Fluid Intent yet, the ability to drop your shoulders and not watch the others on the floor, and feel the Forward Intent innately in the pressure of his hand on your shoulder blades. It's only the second lesson though. We're still learning how to walk properly. In fact, this small adorable woman Cecilia told me she thought I had the best walk, of the newbies. Then she gave me a huge chocolate chip cookie that her daughter had baked, and given to her to give out at dance class. It was a really good cookie too, very salty.

Later Collie and I were driving home, and I just felt so relaxed, just smooth and calm. The Spent Intent.

Sometimes I go outside, but generally only on my way to other covered buildings

So the Cleveland Metroparks Zoo is awesome. For a zoo. What I mean by that is that the zoo is free on Mondays to people who live in the county, to reward them for living in Cuyahoga County and having asthma since birth. Also apparently Hinckley Township, though I have to say I think that's bullshit. If you're going to let those guys from Hinckley in, you might as well just start letting everyone in. Have some standards Zoo.

The Boy and I went this Monday, attempting to get some sunshine and also to make up for the disaster that was seeing Brooklyns Finest on Sunday afternoon, a terrible movie that should ruin the careers of everyone involved except Don Cheadle. Assuming Richard Gere and Wesley Snipe had careers left. On an unrelated note, so I always try to refer to the guys I date by nicknames on here right? Except when I hate them. Then I use last names. The Boy has mentioned he would like an upgrade to his nickname. His suggestion was Captain Awesomeness. I'm hesitant. It's a little long, frankly. I like The Sentinel, but then it sounds like I'm dating a crazy alien robot guardian, which I'm not opposed to but, melodramatic much? I'll think about it. People are so demanding.

This is a monkey who wants to eat that small boy's skull. He's thinking "I could feed my family off your body for a week." The boy is thinking "That monkey will be my friend!" Listen kid, monkeys are not your friends. If you ever come across a monkey in the wild, you should run, because there are probably 20 more of them in the trees and they will use you for dodgeball practice and then brunch. Your only hope is to offer them a trade, where you lure your other small defenseless friends into their trap in exchange for your own life. Growing up is hard in monkey country.

When you were little, the zoo was awesome cause you could go there entirely guilt free. Now as an adult you go, and it's a constant battle of conscience and justification, glee and guilt. Especially in the primate house. All the large animals are either pacing like broken records or lying around comatose. The glass is scratched up and dirty. We went to the wolf enclosure, which is this nice really large yard, and there was one wolf pacing furiously up and down against the window, while the other wolves looked on sympathetically and went about their wolfie business of digging in the snow. He was the broken wolf. The Boy said he needed his reset button pushed.

Its not so bad with the small animals, maybe cause you look in their eyes and know they're just thinking about how to hide in this tree better. Of course, this particular day I think we came around feeding time, because the red panda was clawing at the enclosure door exactly like my cat claws at the cabinet. So all the pacing was possibly accentuated by that. I know all the reasons zoos are great for protecting species and educating people and bringing unimaginable joy to little kids who are just thrilled they can see a monkey in person. I'm a fan of the zoo. I'm just saying, some of the magic is gone when you're older and able to project.

I feel like wallabies are the white tailed deer of Australia. Really cute, really destructive pests. I am still terrified of them though. Like, they will kick my face in terrified. This little guy is in the Australian Walkabout Experience, or whatever they call that place. It's a whole little corner meant to look like Australia, only Australia circa 1929 without the whores and drinking. Also, inexplicably there is a giant plaster tree with a ship's mast growing out of it, squat in the middle of the park. It looks like they acquired it when the sets for Hook were being sold off. Assuming I am a little kid, am I supposed to believe that ship was washed up in the middle of continent by a tsunami, and then the tree grew up below it, hoisting it into the air as a symbol of the impermanence of man? Cause I will, if you tell me to. I did appreciate learning about the giant fences sprawling across the continent to keep dingos out, and that it's all repurposed scrap metal, like a massive Mad Max style barricade. Maybe Australia is permanently stuck in 1929.


Oh, but the zoo is still fun and pleasant. It's still a good place to wander around with a date, avoiding large school groups, sipping coffee while the lions sun themselves. It's beautiful and grandiose and peaceful. More intellectually stimulating than just watching Planet Earth reruns. It's got a public purpose, and a sentimental one, and it reminds you to feel things in your soul even if they are not the best things. You can't go to the zoo without being reminded of your own selfishness, but then it gives you opportunities to ask for forgiveness. Mostly by donating money, but also with appreciation.



PS the other great thing about going to the zoo is if you don't have kids, there are a ton of other people's kids to entertain you with their kidness. But you don't have to take them home. In fact, it's encouraged that you don't.