jrlewis's blog

I need a goat,

to eat the gifts,

of the first year of my relationship,

I thought.   

toffees,

knee socks,

green and pink lemons,

a solar powered butterfly,

et cetera …

Once, I was green. 

Now,

I know better

of our growth together,

the second year of our relationship

is

the goat.

I will leave

the real baby goat at Bartlett’s Farm,

April Fools,

love. 

Is it our culture?

Microsoft Word Thesaurus connects the word forceful

with the word persuasive

(and powerful).

This thesaurus is a great dinosaur.

“I think;

Therefore, I am,”

Said the philosopher, Renee Descartes.

“I think;

Therefore, I am;

Therefore, I can change who I am,”

Argued the neurobiologist, Paul Grobstein. 

I write;

Therefore, I know;

Therefore, I can change what we know.

Might the poet, Martin Espada, write. 

Neurobiology and Behavior

(Thank you for this conversation Paul Grobstein)

“Maybe, it isn't

That there is something

To behavior other than the brain; but,

That there is something

To the brain other than behavior.”

“But aren’t neurons black boxes?”

“I suspect so,

Still neurons are not the storyteller.”

“This is the story of science as a story?”

“Our undertaking is subject

To the VAGARIES of the currents, winds, and tides

And our own will or lack thereof.

Therefore,

We must return time

And again, not only to find

But to create, and again to find and create.”

“Neurons are stories.” 

“The nervous self system…”

“Now I see

How science is living by the sea. 

Where, washed upon the shore are stories;

There to be captured

And dropped down again. 

Again,

Littering the terrain, so

The terrain is never the same, so

Know that truth and time are interwoven,”

I wrote. 

“Yep

Rich powerful writing

Part of you

You have been keeping under wraps,”

Wrote the neurobiologist.

“Stories are black boxes.”

…

When I am storytelling my life,

People often ask what happened, and I reply,

He is solid wood

Seasoned with wind and fighting

To light sodden logs

Bright is life and death is steam

Fire alarm am I. 

It started with a series of presents a wooden carving of an Icelandic horse, a fleece-lined sleeping bag, and a plain cloth book.  I used the pony to model for an updated photograph of myself as a ballet dancer waiting for the annual recital to begin.  I tested the sleeping bag in my car, in 16^oF weather, in a strange rest stop.  But the book was a problem.  What to do with a book I can’t read?  After accepting the help of Google Translate, I found out the title, Ritsafn, and author, Olof Sigurdardottir, of my book.  I looked for a translation, none exists; there isn’t a lot of Icelandic literature translated into English, I learned.  Her book, it looks is out of print in Icelandic alas.  Interestingly, my book is a collection of poetry and fairy tales, the third and final published work of a woman farmer writer.  That her husband was a carpenter formed the basis for my poem comparing the author to myself.  My carpenter (the presenter) seemed satisfied.  I was still curious.  This is the story of how I decided to start a series of homophonic translations of my book.

Your souvenirs:

Icelandic horse carving, fleece sleeping bag, hardback

Which left me longing for a translation that doesn’t exist;

What to do with a text I can’t read?

Old book Ritsafn, old tee-shirt soft,

The paper shines; signed by Fra Sigurdardottir a Hlodum.

She was a writer of fairy tales and poems married to a carpenter,

Ever after farmers.

We are the writer and the carpenter;

My caretaker, I shall translate into the genitive case romantic.

Book and word are English cognates of the Icelandic language,

Word list and word lust.

I learned enough Icelandic;

Now let us make like old people and read in bed!