Poem by Lucile Clifton
won't you celebrate with me
what i have shaped into
a kind of life? i had no model.
born in babylon
both nonwhite and woman
what did i see to be except myself?
i made it up
here on this bridge between/ starshine and clay
my one hand holding tight
my other hand; come celebrate
with me that everyday
something has tried to kill me
and has failed.
Didn't make it to the farmer's market this weekend but it was fantastic and full just the same. My sons visited (oh how I adore them!). Spent a hot minute with the hardest working woman in show business. Her name is LISA. Watched my men be boys at the skate park (I alternated between shouting "Hercules, Hercules" and "Oh no, baby are you all right?!" I got in a little dancing (Jean and Nailah: you keep me young, cherie). Picked up White Teeth by Zadie Smith from the library http://www.randomhouse.com/boldtype/0700/smith/interview.html . Admired my baby's garden. Dreamed and made plans for the future with her too. And I cooked!
Food highlights: grilled red white and blue potatoes; savored strawberries as big as a child's fist; gobbled down black bean, tomato, roasted red pepper and corn salad and nibbled on oven baked espresso/cinnamon french toast.
As I am sharing poetry with you (rest in peace, dear Lucille) my son, Cyrano, hipped me to a Hudson Valley poet, Saul Williams. Check him out hipsters: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zDMtaIcrfQ0
Shell's Strawberry Goodness: wash well in cold water a quart of strawberries, pat dry, put in a pretty handmade ceramic bowl then eat with the stems still on. not entirely necessary but if you like pair w/ Kim Crawford Sauvignon Blanc (deliciosa).
Won't you celebrate with me?
won't you celebrate with me
what i have shaped into
a kind of life? i had no model.
born in babylon
both nonwhite and woman
what did i see to be except myself?
i made it up
here on this bridge between/ starshine and clay
my one hand holding tight
my other hand; come celebrate
with me that everyday
something has tried to kill me
and has failed.
Didn't make it to the farmer's market this weekend but it was fantastic and full just the same. My sons visited (oh how I adore them!). Spent a hot minute with the hardest working woman in show business. Her name is LISA. Watched my men be boys at the skate park (I alternated between shouting "Hercules, Hercules" and "Oh no, baby are you all right?!" I got in a little dancing (Jean and Nailah: you keep me young, cherie). Picked up White Teeth by Zadie Smith from the library http://www.randomhouse.com
Food highlights: grilled red white and blue potatoes; savored strawberries as big as a child's fist; gobbled down black bean, tomato, roasted red pepper and corn salad and nibbled on oven baked espresso/cinnamon french toast.
As I am sharing poetry with you (rest in peace, dear Lucille) my son, Cyrano, hipped me to a Hudson Valley poet, Saul Williams. Check him out hipsters: http://www.youtube.com/wat
Shell's Strawberry Goodness: wash well in cold water a quart of strawberries, pat dry, put in a pretty handmade ceramic bowl then eat with the stems still on. not entirely necessary but if you like pair w/ Kim Crawford Sauvignon Blanc (deliciosa).
Won't you celebrate with me?
self portrait of mi familia; me, my shorty and the fellas.
rhodies and allium past peak in miss pamela's garden. my grandmother was a master gardener like my wife and mother-in-law. it's funny how we recreate familiar patterns in relationships (friends i'm channeling alice power, my maternal grandmother, through pamela denise waterman:-)
flatblasted the rollerblading casualty with the jammie home healing
red white and blues on the barbey. a grill and potatoes are beautiful thangs.
pamela's garden in the early stages (it's gonna be good).
cyrano at the hallway gallery; my son's graduating from college this week, y'all! buttons burstin!
sole ingredient in Shell's Strawberry Goodness
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