Yesterday I bought tickets to see Bruce Springsteen in Indianapolis in March. Only for Bruce would I spend an entire day's salary on one concert. I nabbed tickets the minute they went on sale; when I checked back later, everything except the high up balcony seats and the behind the stage seats were sold out. I'm going with a poet friend who loves him but has never seen him live. Boy, is she in for a treat! :)
* * * * *
A letter is holy. A story
is holy hands reaching out into the world.
Birds come home
across distance I can't conceive
and live in their bodies.
Ash in the air. Every place I've been
is on fire with words.
I throw away all my love letters
without noticing. Mountains
in the heart.
to me? I leave the world
all the time. These arms, these
fingers, this tongue, these feet,
and their bent wings. I know
it will be dirt, the prayers
now in marrow will retake
earth. I will live inside whatever flies.
Burning, the brink of all things.
from Music for Landing Planes By
(Milkweed Editions, 2007)