4 hours at the bookstore

Today I went to Dickens. I knew it would be a dangerous trip for my pocket-book, so I decided I would limit myself to female authors. I came out with a pile of gold: National Geographic's book on the history of natural medicine, Gail Wronsky's Dying for Beauty, The Complete Poems of Marianne Moore, Joy Harjo's She Had Some Horses, An awesome set of diaries by Virginia Woolf, an anthology of poetry by American women, Adrienne Rich's lecture on Poetry and Prose, The complete transcription of Rich's Poetry and Commitment, Mary Oliver's A Poetry Handbook and some of her poetry, MFK Fisher's The Art of Eating, and obviously a biography of Anne Sexton. I spent four hours in the used section and found most of the books there. After I sat for a particularly long time in the natural history section, I looked up and saw that a table of old blue-haired ladies had paused their card game to watch me. I didn't know how to take that. I struggled to stand up with my load of books and my hands were shaking from low blood-sugar (I forgot to eat lunch). I felt like I belonged at the table with them.

Here is an excerpt from Gail Wronsky:

.

Dying For Beauty

Copper.
Archipelago.
Mother.
Revolution.
Silk ovals.

(Do we suggest the possibility of replacement --
copper for copper?)

Friday.

A few small leaves. A couple of biscuits stuffed with butter
and avacado honey. Southern comfort. Lime - green
branches among the brown. Imagine an ice-stuck river,
after a cruel and thorough winter, shifting,
rushing beneath the surface, and finally, the disruption,
revolution, water going crazy with the strangeness
of its own escaping. Thick and brilliant red-clay
riverwater, bloodying the ice.

Apple - green branches among the brown
Stiff silk ovals pushing out of the tips of the uppermost.

I am in love with moisture.