December 2018

COMPASS There’s a lost south in me, a place where joy,though costly, was a common middle name.Tomorrow, there, had elsewhere stayed today, solstices changed places, nothing was the same. There at the world’s edge, the antipodes,with all the stars and seasons rearranged,earth’s axis seemed to shift and gravity’sforce drew me in. My latitudes since then have changed. A lost love, like a phantom limb, gesturesemptily, making itself felt through pain.So ached this south in me for many years.But the world is round, and the lost self was regained once, seeking my own south, I ventured forthin due course, with due diligence, due north. "Compass" is from Dark Matter: New Poems by Robin Morgan, published earlier this year in the United States and the Commonwealth by Spinifex Press. Copyright 2018 by Robin Morgan. This blog will return on January 14, 2019. ...

Warning: this is about nothing relevant—except reality. Poor reality, it's so threatened these days. Now, I am devoted to imagination and, as you may have gathered, quite a fan of the surreal and the supra real, though I’m not always sure what that last is. But I feel so bad for plain, poor reality. After the Age of Enlightenment, it seemed that human beings had promised reality a better future. And in our modern, rational society, many of us thought we had finally reached the point where reality was dismissed only by folks certain that a bearded old white guy on a gold throne in the clouds was their salvation, or else that drinking Kool-Aid would hasten a comet coming to bring them to another planet.  Alas, no. For us to have thought that was, well, unrealistic. There is a new so-called therapy gaining great popularity for use with people who have...

Now that the U.S. House of Representatives is back in relatively sane hands, we can dare look to the future. That feels like a luxury, since we've been scrabbling for moment to moment survival.