Colors
New art is up in the library events space, some brightly colored works by Jucivaldo Tavares, lots of pale blues and sparkling greens, with splashes of red, hung yesterday afternoon by a slender, pretty woman in astonishingly high heels and a dress that matched the paintings. Suddenly the room is invigorating, a perfect setting for the poetry reading. I’ve not been present at any more of the rehearsals, so I haven’t heard much poetry bouncing off the corridor walls in recent days, though I have heard some emotional debates about T.S. Eliot’s anti-Semitism and the proper translation of Rilke. Poets and performers are a volatile bunch.

The view from my window this morning – monochromatic, fuzzy, the distance diffused through mist. A couple of gulls fly past against a gray, slightly bumpy sky. My coffee is cold and almost gone. M is still asleep and the cat isn’t in the mood to talk. I could use a look at those paintings.