Category Archives: Poetry

Steven Wright

I miss hearing Steve’s humor:

“One time the power went out in my house, I had no lights. Fortunately my camera had a flash. I went to make a peanut butter sandwich and took 60 pictures of my kitchen. My neighbors called the police. They thought it was lightning in my house.”

“I was walking down the street and all of a sudden the prescription for my eye-glasses ran out…”

“I don’t have to walk my dog anymore. I walked him all at once. He was fun when he was a puppy. I named him Stay. When I’d call him I’d say C’mere Stay C’mere Stay he’d go like this. He’s a lot smarter than that now. Now when I call him he just ignores me and keeps on typing.”

“I went to a restaurant that serves ‘breakfast at any time’. So I ordered French Toast during the Renaissance.”

STEVEN WRIGHT ON THE LATE LATE SHOW

Eunoia

The BBC gives a kind review of Eunoia:

Eunoia is the shortest word in English containing all five vowels – and it means “beautiful thinking”. It is also the title of Canadian poet Christian Bok’s book of fiction in which each chapter uses only one vowel.

Mr Bok believes his book proves that each vowel has its own personality, and demonstrates the flexibility of the English language.

I can barely read the excerpts. In fact, I might almost say I find it a little Eunoia-ing. Ok, bad pun.

Gulls churr: ululu, ululu. Ducks cluck. Bulls plus bucks run thru buckbrush; thus dun burrs clutch fur tufts. Ursus cubs plus Lupus pups hunt skunks.

Funny sounding stuff, but there is no way I would want to read a whole book of it unless it had really pretty pictures and maybe some pop-up art. I guess the advantage is rhyming comes so easily when you focus on a single vowel.

I taste a liquor never brewed

by emily dickinson

I taste a liquor never brewed,
From tankards scooped in pearl;
Not all the vats upon the Rhine
Yield such an alcohol!

Inebriate of air am I,
And debauchee of dew,
Reeling, through endless summer days,
From inns of molten blue.

When landlords turn the drunken bee
Out of the foxglove’s door,
When butterflies renounce their drams,
I shall but drink the more!

Till seraphs swing their snowy hats,
And saints to windows run,
To see the little tippler
Leaning against the sun!

It seems so few learn to drink from nature, and yet it is the most precious liquor…