sunday morning poem and a book reading

the locust

its hot voice sizzles from some cool tree

near-by:

it seems to burn its way through the air

like a small, pointed flame of sound

sharpened on the ecstatic edge of sunbeams.

by leonora speyer (1872-1956)

 

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 greg and i went out early this morning to visit a new restaurant in the neighborhood (first putting in a load of laundry on our way out).  the company initially opened in los angeles and specializes in breakfast: oat flour pancakes, eggs and three types of sausage - pork, chicken or chickpea. the pancakes, eggs and fresh orange juice were delicious but the coffee was weak and the sausages a little too dry and salty.

very cute baby customer . . 

there was a line out the door by the time we left . . !

we were home in time for first unitarian's summer service via zoom at 11 (also in person) which i listened to while greg went for a walk. we met later at our re-opened library for a book reading by author ada calhoun, reading from her newly published book also a poet, about her relationship with her dad and how they were both influenced by the poet frank o'hara. she's a wonderful speaker; warm and funny and very comfortable talking to an audience, answering questions and telling stories. afterwards, we walked along tenth street to three lives bookstore and then home for dinner.

everyone is enjoying the summer breezes . . 

the bookstore always seems to be very busy lately!

for dinner i had marinated black sea bass with tamari and ginger as suggested by a neighbor i spoke with saturday morning at the fish stand. it was very good but i don't think black sea bass is a favorite fish of mine . . i roasted zucchini and beans and made a salad with cucumber, arugula and red leaf lettuce. it's been in the low 90's now, but not too humid.

a book reading in chelsea

 after dinner this evening, around 6:30 pm, greg and i walked along the high line to 20th street and then up tenth avenue to 192 books, a bookstore in chelsea that neither of us had ever been to before.

 he had read on an events page online, that author and editor mary ann caws would partake in a conversation with met art curator stephanie d'alessandro about her new book, the milk bowl of feathers.

 greg is familiar with her work through her translations and writings of proust and mallarmé and other surrealist writers (you can see a list of her publications here).. she's a "distinguished professor of english, french and comparative literature and emerita and resident professor at the graduate school of the city university of new york." 

though she's eighty-five years old and had just returned from giving a talk in rome (where she said that she had fallen), she had an inspiring and happy energy that lit up the bookstore and affected everyone listening. when asked how she chose the pieces that were included in the book, she said that she simply picked the ones that she loved and that weren't boring. i would love to have heard what criteria comprised the most loved writings, but she didn't elaborate. she's presently working on a book titled creative gatherings: meeting places of modernism, due out next fall. she had so much positive energy! she also had a strong gaze and took the time to connect with each one of us who spoke with her and requested a signed book.

 coming back home along the high line we passed the astronomer's club. their telescopes were trained on mars and saturn, but the cloud cover was too thick for viewing. they set up every tuesday evening so maybe i can remember to visit next week.

ms caw's book . .