The living room ceiling at my furnished apartment in Maryland really did fall in about 6:30 yesterday morning, 10 minutes after I'd gotten my books and desk and computer moved out from under what I could see was coming. There's a crew here tonight, re-rocking the ceiling, and I've discovered thinking and hammering don't mix very well. So I'll just leave you with this from Ted Roethke and my memory:
Suppose the ceiling went outside
And caught a cold and up and died?
The only thing we'd have for proof
That it was gone would be the roof.
I think it would be most revealing
To find out how the ceiling's feeling.
and something completely different from Donald Justice's New and Selected Poems:
Time and the Weather
Time and the weather wear away
The houses that our fathers built.
Their ghostly furniture remains—
All the sad sofas we have stained
With tears of boredom or of guilt,
The fraying mottoes, the stopped clocks …
And still sometimes these tired shapes
Haunt the damp parlors of the heart.
What Sunday prisons they recall!
And what miraculous escapes!
Update: I did add a link to starnosedmole in BLOGS ON POETRY. That's almost like working. Links to zines are coming.