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Transit, Richard Wilbur

Davey’s  did such an excellent job last week!

I drew a picture of this poem.

***

Transit

Richard Wilbur

A woman I have never seen before

Steps from the darkness of her town-house door

At just that crux of time when she is made

So beautiful that she or time must fade.

What use to claim that as she tugs her gloves

A phantom heraldry of all the loves

Blares from the lintel? That the staggered sun

Forgets, in his confusion, how to run?

Still, nothing changes as her perfect feet

Click down the walk that issues in the street,

Leaving the stations of her body there

As a whip maps the countries of the air.

Category: It Is What It Is  One Comment  Tags:

Notes on a Conversation

Speaking of Facebook…

So Katie Prejean put up on Facebook¹ an album from Charity Week (that’s this week).  I loved seeing pictures of Micah Teller in a toga reading the republic in jail, or Fr. Maguire being carried to jail, or Samantha Harvey dancing with various beautiful people.  BUT the one thing from this album that really brought it all back–the one thing that stuck out in my mind-brain, that strange conglomeration like a bowl of spagetti–brought back the real, the true, UD experience……without more ado, I give you these artsy photos of the bros on the mall riding their long-boards!

¹Speaking of Facebook, has anyone (James Mackenzie???!) seen The Social Network?  Any thoughts is it worth seeing?

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