Monday Morning Musings:
“August rain: the best of the summer gone, and the new fall not yet born. The odd uneven time.”
―Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath
“Don’t you wish you’d go on forever
Don’t you wish you’d go on forever
Don’t you wish you’d go on forever
And you’d never stop?
In that shiny little surrey with the fringe on the top”
–from Oscar Hammerstein, “The Surrey With The Fringe on the Top,” Oklahoma!
“The poetry of earth is never dead’
–From John Keats, “On the Grasshopper and Cricket”
When the universe asks,
fill it with music from the stars
sit in joy and laugh
so that flowers bloom in colorful bunches
dropping petals in charming disarray
like garments before a bath
weave clouds of language
into a rainbow of thought and desire
thank the sun
hum with the moon
***
In August, night storms rage
dazzling sleeping eyes awaken
then cloudy skies part
with freshly washed breezes
and summer sings a song
In the heat and rain
fruit and vegetables grow and thrive
freshly picked,
they sit waiting at farm stands
bursting with flavor,
ripe juices flow in warm sweetness
filling my mouth with the taste of summer
and I hear its song
We go to a fringe festival
fringe–an ornamental border,
or something peripheral, extreme, edgy–
I think of the surrey
and of the suede vest my husband wore in high school
(he thought it was so cool)
I think of Fringe, the TV show,
which really was cool
(unlike the vest)
my husband didn’t believe me
but then he watched the entire series on Netflix with me,
and he knew I was right
But this festival is none of those things
not suede or surrey or TV
it’s a festival of theater and music
we see three plays in one afternoon,
the first about a boy in school,
there’s a child like that in every class
he can’t sit still
his mind is racing, too.
You’ve known this kid,
or have taught him,
or maybe you were him,
bright, but unable to focus,
excited, eager, but needing to move.
What happens to him?
It’s a one-man show,
the actor fidgets, jumps, somersaults across on the stage
dances with his school desk
We laugh, sympathize, and then we’re stunned.
After the play, we eat lunch,
Mexican food
(delicious)
listen to live music
watch the crowds,
the couple with their little dog,
the woman clapping to the tune,
the sun plays hide-and-seek
still, it’s a beautiful day
a bit odd, uneven
yet filled with poetry
and summer’s song
We see play about Jeffrey Dahmer
another one-man show
I think the actor must be exhausted–
each performance living in the mind of a serial killer–
I hadn’t planned to see this show
(because it’s a play about Jeffrey Dahmer)
but I overhear a man saying how good it was
and he was right,
not exploitive or sensationalistic,
but thought-provoking,
a man who lived on the fringe
battling his demons and desires
The third play had an interesting premise
about faith and what it means
famous women from history–
though Eve might be a stretch–
and Mary Tudor?
somehow the threads didn’t all come together
and some did not seem to fit at all,
the whole Islamic subplot,
still it was promising,
a work in progress from a young writer-director
just out of school
still on the fringe, no longer student
but still early in his career
We walk around town a bit
as people begin packing up
time is passing,
Sunday evening, the end of the weekend
summer is passing, too
the days a bit shorter
the sun not as high for as long–
the odd uneven time–
still, we wish sometimes it would go on forever
and never stop,
wouldn’t it be nice to sway in that surrey at a slow clip clop?
Passing the Time or Time Passing, Hammonton, NJ
At night, we sleep beneath diamond ships
sailing, glittering in an indigo sea
summer drifts, lingering for a while,
we are on the fringe,
autumn is coming
but for now, it’s another storm
another summer song
I hear the birds sing–
The poetry of earth is never dead
We went to the New Jersey Fringe Festival in Hammonton, NJ
