Monday, June 8, 2009


I know, I know. I shouldn't write about wild roses, much less 
honeysuckle. Aren't we so over roses and honeysuckle? 
But when I run their scent gets me high.  
Especially in this morning's humidity. Drunk on flower scent. 
All along the roads that are part of my loop. 
This won't last. I'm not complaining. 

Summer reading is on my mind. A partial list:

Song of Myself
Biography of Whitman
Anthology of contemporary poems inspired by Whitman
(In preparation for fall exhibition at the Museum where I work)
Bosworth"s biography of Diane Arbus
David Foster Wallace's Infinite Jest

I think these will get me some mileage. There are more.  


apprentice said...

The Arbus biography sounds an interesting choice. I must look out for it.

And don't apologies re the scent, it is one of the wonders of June. I have an old one flush old climbing rose called Albertine and I wouldn't swap its short lived heady scent or all the repeat flowering teas in China.

Pam Hart said...

I wish I knew the name of the wild roses along the road. They're small-petaled, white and grow like crazy. I tried google but could only find domesticated versions. The Arbus bio is a book I'm keen to read. I saw an amazing exhibition of her work at the Met Museum a few years ago.

Christine said...

I always found it intriguing that Diane Arbus' brother was the poet Howard Nemerov. Good luck with your list!