Month: October 2016

Dreaming of Bernie Sanders

I’m reblogging this post from earlier in 2016, which has been one of my most popular posts. True story—-on the night before the story broke on Hillary Clinton/Weinergate re-opening of the FBI investigation into her emails, I had a vivid dream about Bernie Sanders. An indication of things to come, perhaps?

Jill Elaine Hughes

Stay The Hell Off Bernie Sanders' Lawn! | The Return of the Modern Philosopher

This is not your typical Bernie Sanders blog post. True, liberals like me have been dreaming of a presidential candidate like him—a straight-talking, honest, charismatic, and unapologetic leftist who draws crowds and enthusiasm from everyone, not just liberals—for decades. I have wanted someone like him since I was a twelve-year-old in the mid-80s who discovered that my values and ideals were a lot closer to Bob Dylan and the Beatles than Ronald Reagan and Alex P. Keaton.  But I’m not talking about that kind of dreaming.

I’m talking about literally, dreaming. Like what goes on at night, during REM sleep.

Bernie Sanders has invaded my nights.

This is significant for me because like most adults, I seldom remember my dreams. (Hell, I’ve got a full-time, executive-level comunications job and two small kids, so I’m lucky to even get a decent night’s sleep most nights.) But for the past several weeks…

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Dreaming of Bernie Sanders

I’m reblogging this post from earlier in 2016, which has been one of my most populat posts. True story—-on the night before the story broke on Hillary Clinton/Weinergate re-opening of the FBI investigation into her emails, I had a vivid dream about Bernie Sanders. An indication of things to come, perhaps?

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This is not your typical Bernie Sanders blog post. True, liberals like me have been dreaming of a presidential candidate like him—a straight-talking, honest, charismatic, and unapologetic lef…

Source: Dreaming of Bernie Sanders

Poetry Rides Again

It’s been a while since I posted one of my poems. (Sorry, life got in the way). But I’m back, and so are they.


Dove Memory

 

I pasted the poem, a sonnet, by

Edna St. Vincent Millay

above my bed, and hung it below

the pink wallhanging bestowed

upon me by Mother’s last craft sale.

 

Edna says:

            “I find this frenzy insufficient reason

            for conversation when me meet again.”

 

I pasted the poem, a sonnet by

Edna St. Vincent Millay

above my cold bed, not for my sake

but yours. Since you chose to break

your ties with my body, shale

stiffness has set my waist

to rest upon beds placed

in rooms cold with indifference.

A new touch from you—deliverance

from all those things chill and hard—

is all I require, but I’ve been barred

from your vocabulary. Send

me a message, like one you meant

yesterday with eyes behind

small glasses, that you won’t mind

putting my waist back in its place.

Make soft what is chill in the space

of a glimpse, the time it takes

doves to open their eyes to wake.