morning has broken...

i had a goal this morning: to get out of the house and go downtown. but then, it started raining cats and dogs. drizzle i can handle. downpours not so much. my rain-boots are broken and they are on my list of "needs". my attempts at fixing them (even my dad tried when he was here!) have been no-good. they are just cute but old rubber rain-boots with orange shoelaces and i can't find anything i like to replace them, so i keep wearing broken ones. ones that let the rain in...

everything seems to be breaking at the same time.

our monitor is broken. it sends greg and i into road-rage every morning trying to boot it up. it's pre-historic. (not the monitor. the feeling. the waiting is so... un-modern.) it flickers off and goes black for about 15 minutes. you just have to turn it off and on until it sticks. i've adapted to trying to complete my business on the computer in 2 second-flicking-intervals. we're holding off on buying a new one because greg has to find a good one for his photography needs. not just any old monitor will do. and so our eyes glaze over with the pressing of the button; i feel like we're in the hatch on LOST. it's now a chore that we sometimes delegate to francis: "go boot up the monitor" and he sits there for ages, pressing the button on and off...

our video-camera is broken. gotta hold in the battery pack while filming.
the kitchen timer is broken. count to sixty in your head.
my face-powder compact is broken. store it in a baggie; it's a mess.
the green couch is unraveling.
the bed is killing our backs.

there are too many needs mixed in with too many wants.
but: these are just things.
there are other things more important...

last night, we were at the seattle art museum for the book launch party of
-YOU WILL NOT COME BACK UNCHANGED-
a book of poetry and prose from seattle area students K-12, thru the writers in the schools program. francis had one of his poems selected for this book, and he was to read it at the event. we were so proud i actually teared up when i first found out. he adamantly did NOT want to read his poem, but we pretty much forced him to. once he got there, though, he started to get nervous/excited. and when the other kids started reading their poems (he was #45 on the list, quite a long wait) he started to get more excited than nervous. he did great and didn't mess up, which was his worry. he even adlibbed a bit, adding a bit about a hummingbird that wasn't even in the text. !? i was pretty impressed with the poems these kids had written; i don't remember being taught poetry at such a young age. and afterwords, they had a book signing, and all the "authors" sat at a long table and signed books for their "fans". francis took this job very seriously and i about melted. he was totally in his element. i went down the line with our copy of the book and got all the signatures for francis to look back on. i remembered faces to go with each poem.

and then:

at the end:

francis said:
so, what do you think? should i just go tell that girl i think she's cute?

greg said:
why not? seize the moment. life is short.

so we watched him march up to the cute-poetry-reading-girl who sat next to him and say "by the way, i think you're cute", nod, and walk away.

he talked about her all night...
--------------------------------

ODE TO BIRDS: (by francis nyssen)

Birds, birds
are the most
colorful animals
green
brown
yellow
red
blue
turquoise
purple
neon blue--
I could go on.
The king of nests
has a fancy for huge
very decorated nests.
It's turquoise
and neon blue. It
sends you in a trance.
A yellow canary goes
black against the sun
on a sunny
day.
A rattle of leaves and sounds tell
you
the toucan hops
from branch to
branch, chirping.
It's beak shining, making
us see a blur of color.
A crow searches
endlessly for its
old feathers
of white.
The mimicker of
sounds mimics
the sound of its falling
forest. The king
of voice shines
its colorful feathers.
Red, blue
yellow, green,
it has a stubby
beak. It makes
you see a sea of
colors. Making
you smell fruit.
Cloves send a scent to me
making me think of birds.
A fresh
drink of chai
reminds me of when
I'm sitting in
the bird dome at
the zoo.
At night I can imagine
a vulture looks despairingly
jealous of all the color.
Starlings are
considered
good luck when
they live in your house.
A bird's color is what
the vulture
wants so badly.
Cardinal's red
makes it
look like a
streaking flame
of light across
the sky,
making fire
burn in your
eyes.