...arrived today. I just finished reading it. Greenboathouse Books outdid themselves again. What a beautiful book. I had a good look at a copy of the paper wrapped version when I was in Winnipeg and I must say the hardbound copy is far more impressive to look at and to feel. The various textures sing under my fingers, in harmony with the music of the work. The hardcover perfectly suits the weighty, justified prose poems and the style of the sentences. The last poem is two pages long, each page a matching, perfect box of text, so perfect that the two-line title - each line of it no more than 2/3 the length of the poem's body - seemed incredibly heavy, pushing down as I read, the relentless pressure contributing to the overall power of the poem. Incredible.
Life here has been anything but still. My cat has entered her second kittenhood. Apart from her usual nap times, all she wants to do is play. And so we play. When I read she bunts my book. It does nothing for my reading speed, but it makes her happy, so I let her bunt away. Then night comes. 2:30 a.m. The cat is jumping and running, batting her toys, bouncing off the furniture. 2:35 a.m. The cat is running flat out, bounds on the bed, an inch from my nose, then leaps onto the bookcase. 2:40 a.m. The cat jumps down, landing on the other side of my head, then races off. Repeat. This has been going on for weeks.
2 comments:
Maybe the cat knows the meaning of life. Or not. Interesting how sometimes what is around you merges with what you read.
She certainly knows how to live. G posted a great cartoon on Bookninja today that really says it all.
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