WORK, SOMETIMES
BY MARY OLIVER
I was sad all day, and why not. There I was, books piled
on both sides of the table, paper stacked up, words
falling off my tongue.
The robins had been a long time singing, and now it
was beginning to rain.
What are we sure of? Happiness isn’t a town on a map,
or an early arrival, or a job well done, but good work
ongoing. Which is not likely to be the trifling around
with a poem.
Then it began raining hard, and the flowers in the yard
were full of lively fragrance.
You have had days like this, no doubt. And wasn’t it
wonderful, finally, to leave the room? Ah, what a
moment!
As for myself, I swung the door open. And there was
the wordless, singing world. And I ran for my life.
1 
currently reading.
1
(Source: ofnationalgeographic, via naomicreys)
this guy named rob lowe comes into the box office all the time and everytime he gives me his name, he laughs.
dude’s been getting a kick out of his own name for 30 years. rock and roll.
1 
spine haiku
“post office messenger
wasted on the road
a good man is hard to find”
1
yesterday was my birthday.
there were telescopes and bridges and bookstores and beers
and it was delightful.
1my mom trying to think of emma thompson’s name:
“who was that lady in that movie with kim jarrey?” (jim carrey)
“come on, you know.. ‘a lot of bad stuff is going on’?” (a series of unfortunate events)
“come on, you know.. she was in malinda?” (matilda, which actually ended up being nanny mcphee)
at least i have this to look forward to after graduation.
1 
Paul Killebrew
feist
radio city, nyc.
1
desk mates.
