What Might You Find in the Shed of a Gardener?
Why--you may ask when you look at the plethora of tools,
hanging on individual hooks lining the wall,
many unused, never to be used by the muddy hands of the gardener.
Some have been gifts, or others I picked up—
maybe at the garage sale down the street, or a fellow gardener
was willing to part. Perhaps I found it in the garden I claimed to be mine.
Others came with meaning. The rusty blades of a hard used tool
that came with sweat stained handles. My grandfather’s hands—
so many memories, I find it odd why I was so lucky to be holding his tools.
My hand fit the grooves that had long since been empty. I rubbed
the handles that lined the wall of the gardening shed and realized—
although, some handles had never been used and others were worn
a story could be told and would be told-
in the shed of a gardener.
I Must Admit, I Wanted To Be Sandy
and have Danny
boy from the beach,
all to myself
love at first sight,
for the secret bird
never expected to meet again
the man with the smooth skin
and letter-man’s sweater
soft voice
and gentle kiss
blessed with virginity
wholesome and pure
gone bad
a member of the ladies
Pink to be exact
tough
untouchable
and bad
the man from Rydell High
snap of his finger
sly dimpled smile
the tilt of his head
in my direction:
Come on Sandy, let’s dance.
Monday, February 19, 2007
The Cupid
During the last class, I couldn’t help but be intrigued by the idea of the innocent baby and the cupid, or Valentine’s Day. The connections between romantic imagery or the analogy of innocence and the Amor and Psyche story or the cupid seem to provide a very fruitful paper topic. I am looking forward to “diving” into this idea. Any suggestions are welcome.
Death Upon Me
It all began with my husband (Brent) and me planning a camping trip with friends. (For the sake of this dream, I am going to consider them as friends seeing we carried on conversations as if we knew each other from way back, even though I could not place the faces.) We were gathering all of the necessary supplies in our dark basement. I distinctly remember the shag brown and green carpet and the dust smell that lingered in the air. The basement contained no windows so the only light was a fluorescent bulb that made an obnoxious buzz. The smoke was so thick that we had to push our hands to create a pathway through the basement to the stairs. We had an abundance of bags; it seemed, to go on a one-night camping trip to a cabin.
Shift in location…
There was a group of people sitting around the camp fire on the same shag carpet that was in the basement of the house. I couldn’t make out the faces of the people and it almost seemed as if we were being guarded. I can remember the large man that played the bongo drum in the corner of the circle. Some people were dancing and others were talking in a hushed voice. (Which at the time seemed odd seeing the drum was very difficult to block out). I was an outsider looking on. My husband was no longer present.
Time passed…
With no warning a man went into convulsions on the ground. The drumming got louder and the intensity of the scene made my stomach hurt. I was crying for help but few people even noticed what was happening. I was holding the man’s head as he began to pass out or die. I am not sure what was really going on.
Shift in location…
Now I am lying quietly underneath a cedar deck peering through the cracks at the men I previously though were guarding the group. They were talking about the pills that I slipped into everyone’s drinks. They planned to do worse then simply kill me, when they located me. The men paced the deck planning my torture, until I woke up.
Shift in location…
There was a group of people sitting around the camp fire on the same shag carpet that was in the basement of the house. I couldn’t make out the faces of the people and it almost seemed as if we were being guarded. I can remember the large man that played the bongo drum in the corner of the circle. Some people were dancing and others were talking in a hushed voice. (Which at the time seemed odd seeing the drum was very difficult to block out). I was an outsider looking on. My husband was no longer present.
Time passed…
With no warning a man went into convulsions on the ground. The drumming got louder and the intensity of the scene made my stomach hurt. I was crying for help but few people even noticed what was happening. I was holding the man’s head as he began to pass out or die. I am not sure what was really going on.
Shift in location…
Now I am lying quietly underneath a cedar deck peering through the cracks at the men I previously though were guarding the group. They were talking about the pills that I slipped into everyone’s drinks. They planned to do worse then simply kill me, when they located me. The men paced the deck planning my torture, until I woke up.
Saturday, February 17, 2007
FRAGMENT 88
(quoted in pseudo-Plutarch, Consolation to Apollo )
(quoted in pseudo-Plutarch, Consolation to Apollo )
"As a single, unified thing there exists in us both life and death, waking and sleeping, youth and old age, because the former things having changed are now the latter, and when those latter things change, they become the former." Heraclitus
It is better to hide ignorance, but it is hard to do this when we relax over wine.
Heraclitus, On the Universe
Heraclitus, On the Universe
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Painful Smoke
Why am I dreaming about death? It's exhausting and almost as bad as dreaming about typing on my blog. Last night I dreamt that I was holding my grandmother's hand as she faded in and out of "death state". My stomach and chest burned almost as if I had the cancer. Maybe I did. Her cigarette burned on her bedside table. A cloud of thick, intoxicating smoke filled the room. Although she was not "alive" she continually pressed her morphine drip button. She was not in pain. I was the one suffering, crying uncontrollably, as I held the hand of my dying grandmother.
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Poem from Valparaiso Poetry Review
SMALL GIRL IN A GIFT SHOP
The nested boxes fascinate her most,
Each with an elephant carved on its curved lid.
She stacks them in a teetering pyramid
A time or two, but soon becomes engrossed
In putting the scattered pieces as they were:
A puzzle whose solution seems to mean
Not everything that matters can be seen.
Her mother calls, and like a conjuror
She turns and rises, flourishing with pleasure
The finished puzzle, cunningly compact,
In whose dark center, shapely as a fact,
There might or might not lie some tiny treasure.
© by Catherine Tufariello
The nested boxes fascinate her most,
Each with an elephant carved on its curved lid.
She stacks them in a teetering pyramid
A time or two, but soon becomes engrossed
In putting the scattered pieces as they were:
A puzzle whose solution seems to mean
Not everything that matters can be seen.
Her mother calls, and like a conjuror
She turns and rises, flourishing with pleasure
The finished puzzle, cunningly compact,
In whose dark center, shapely as a fact,
There might or might not lie some tiny treasure.
© by Catherine Tufariello
Tuesday, February 6, 2007
Cheers to Death
Why is it that dreams contain a key into the past that your waking life has some how forgotten? I choose to "forget" certain parts of my life so that I can move on and make peace with my current situations. These are the events that have a tendencay to creep back into my life when I least expect it. Why is this? Now that you have a precurser here it goes... Death takes on an odd role in my dreams. I am always greatly impacted by the death of someone close while the rest of the world continues to go on leaving me crying a silent tear.
Basically, I was hanging out with my friend Marli and Paula in a living room with brown shag carpet and dark wood panelling on the wall. The phone rang and I picked it up with out thinking. "Kacie, it was an accident," was the reply on the other end of the phone. "He's dead, his grandmother ran a red light in downtown Denver." I fell to the floor and sobbed in such a way that my stomach hurt. I looked around and noticed that my friends were still chatting and continuing pouring themselves lava flows. Did they not see me on the ground rolling around sobbing? I continued this behavior for what seemed like a great deal of time. As if nothing happened, I jumped up and toasted Marli and took a long sweet sip of a lava flow and began to laugh.
Basically, I was hanging out with my friend Marli and Paula in a living room with brown shag carpet and dark wood panelling on the wall. The phone rang and I picked it up with out thinking. "Kacie, it was an accident," was the reply on the other end of the phone. "He's dead, his grandmother ran a red light in downtown Denver." I fell to the floor and sobbed in such a way that my stomach hurt. I looked around and noticed that my friends were still chatting and continuing pouring themselves lava flows. Did they not see me on the ground rolling around sobbing? I continued this behavior for what seemed like a great deal of time. As if nothing happened, I jumped up and toasted Marli and took a long sweet sip of a lava flow and began to laugh.
Monday, February 5, 2007
A man with a story
As I glance across
the oblong table,
I know
you have something,
something to tell.
Will it be a story about the many miles you hiked?
Or about the absurd job the president is doing.
Will you tell me about the time you met your beloved?
Or when you left home to be a hero.
I can see it,
it’s in your tender eyes.
There is little doubt of where you have been.
The creases under your eyes
tell of family,
and the dirt under your nails,
tells of hard work.
The laughter in your voice
tells of happiness,
and the gentleness in your touch
tells of love.
You are a man of many,
a bearer of substance,
a man of wonder,
filling the space that otherwise would remain empty.
Don’t worry.
Don’t think your stories
will go untold.
Today is my turn,
woman with a story.
the oblong table,
I know
you have something,
something to tell.
Will it be a story about the many miles you hiked?
Or about the absurd job the president is doing.
Will you tell me about the time you met your beloved?
Or when you left home to be a hero.
I can see it,
it’s in your tender eyes.
There is little doubt of where you have been.
The creases under your eyes
tell of family,
and the dirt under your nails,
tells of hard work.
The laughter in your voice
tells of happiness,
and the gentleness in your touch
tells of love.
You are a man of many,
a bearer of substance,
a man of wonder,
filling the space that otherwise would remain empty.
Don’t worry.
Don’t think your stories
will go untold.
Today is my turn,
woman with a story.
Mama, where's the moon?
You ask,
in your persistent voice,
never missing a beat.
The questions
of when,
why,
and where
or perhaps,
how come.
What it must be like.
You aren’t entirely sure,
what it all means.
Or does it really matter?
Maybe through questioning,
or searching,
you will find reason
and begin to understand.
Or not.
You trail off
in tune,
humming the beat
to the infamous song on the radio
The song will continue to fill the air
until
you get bored.
You glance in my direction,
with knowing eyes
and ask
Mama, where’s the moon?
Before I can answer,
you let me know
it is hiding
and it will be back tomorrow.
in your persistent voice,
never missing a beat.
The questions
of when,
why,
and where
or perhaps,
how come.
What it must be like.
You aren’t entirely sure,
what it all means.
Or does it really matter?
Maybe through questioning,
or searching,
you will find reason
and begin to understand.
Or not.
You trail off
in tune,
humming the beat
to the infamous song on the radio
The song will continue to fill the air
until
you get bored.
You glance in my direction,
with knowing eyes
and ask
Mama, where’s the moon?
Before I can answer,
you let me know
it is hiding
and it will be back tomorrow.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
A Dreamer's Dream...
A Maze of Creepy Faces
It went something like this… I’m not quite sure exactly what the place was or how I ended up there, but my mom and I entered a room filled with a trampoline and balls. It was similar to one of the blow up castles that you see at children’s birthdays. I entered with reluctance. My mom on the other hand dove right in doing a “butt-sit”. We butt-sit our way across the room until we landed on a piece of vibrant red carpet.
We walked through the tall door-way into a room filled with a cathedral ceiling and the most elaborate chandelier. At times the reflection of the light and glass made the room so bright that I had to shield my eyes from the glare. People were running, dancing, talking, and laughing all around. It appeared to be straight out of Las Vegas with the slot machines being replaced by doors. I once again entered the room with reluctance. My mom she headed straight to her door of choice and waved good-bye. It wasn’t really a wave but a hand raise and a smile.
I on the other hand observed the rooms closely and picked the room that said “babies”. I entered into a long skinny hall with yet more doors. I chose the one closest to me. I was beginning to get nervous and anxious and I felt like I needed to hide. Once inside the room the twenty foot ceilings were lined with Cabbage Patch dolls. They were everywhere. Boys, girls, twins, black ones, blue ones, you name it they were there. The difference was in the smile. They all looked down on me standing in the middle of the room with their own identifiable smirk. I turned a circle meeting each of their expressions and jolted myself out of sleep.
It went something like this… I’m not quite sure exactly what the place was or how I ended up there, but my mom and I entered a room filled with a trampoline and balls. It was similar to one of the blow up castles that you see at children’s birthdays. I entered with reluctance. My mom on the other hand dove right in doing a “butt-sit”. We butt-sit our way across the room until we landed on a piece of vibrant red carpet.
We walked through the tall door-way into a room filled with a cathedral ceiling and the most elaborate chandelier. At times the reflection of the light and glass made the room so bright that I had to shield my eyes from the glare. People were running, dancing, talking, and laughing all around. It appeared to be straight out of Las Vegas with the slot machines being replaced by doors. I once again entered the room with reluctance. My mom she headed straight to her door of choice and waved good-bye. It wasn’t really a wave but a hand raise and a smile.
I on the other hand observed the rooms closely and picked the room that said “babies”. I entered into a long skinny hall with yet more doors. I chose the one closest to me. I was beginning to get nervous and anxious and I felt like I needed to hide. Once inside the room the twenty foot ceilings were lined with Cabbage Patch dolls. They were everywhere. Boys, girls, twins, black ones, blue ones, you name it they were there. The difference was in the smile. They all looked down on me standing in the middle of the room with their own identifiable smirk. I turned a circle meeting each of their expressions and jolted myself out of sleep.
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Removal of the Fairy
Man and Woman- Together In Partnership
When Harry met Sally he spent a great deal of time confessing his love and commitment to her. Over time he encouraged her to move in with him and share the duties of the house. Harry suggested to Sally that they should put some money away in a savings account so that they could ensure their retirement. He also suggested that Sally take out a five-hundred thousand dollar life insurance policy just in case she tripped and accidentally fell out of the window while she was scrubbing cob webs. Sally agreed and headed to the local bank. That night Harry made it quite clear that neither of them would touch the money, unless of course they were in dire need.
On September 30th Harry woke up and told Sally that he needed to use some of the money for his godson Rich’s college fund and promised to repay the amount that he took out. Deep down Harry was craving the new Rolex watch that his buddy Tom had shown him in the local jewelry store window. Sally encouraged Harry to give as much money as needed feeling confident that he would pay the money back. Harry went straight to the bank and took out half of their savings. As he was heading to the jewelry store he quickly placed his wedding ring in his pocket and walked into the store.
Once inside he noticed a beautiful blond standing behind the counter. He quickly introduced himself and one thing led to another. Harry and his new found mistress spent the day on the beach starring at the matching Rolex watches that reflected the sun. It wasn’t until dinner time that Harry made his way home.
Harry was greeted at the door by the smell of turkey and dumplings and Sally’s smiling face.
“Hi hon, it looks like you had a wonderful day.”
“It went ok,” Harry replied.
“Did Rich like the college fund you set up for him?”
“Oh yes, of course”
Sally could tell that Harry was not in the mood for talking so she let the conversation die. He insisted on needing a shower before dinner and would be back soon.
The next morning Harry woke up and once again needed to see his blond-haired beauty. He told Sally that he needed to be a good godfather again and buy Demi his first car. Sally expressed to Harry how happy she was to have such a special man in his life and suggested he use some of their retirement savings to do so. Harry kissed Sally on the forehead and headed to the bank. He once again removed a significant amount of the savings and used his trusty American Express to take his mistress to the local spa where they enjoyed each others company.
Harry returned at dinner time and once again took a shower and briefly discussed the day’s events with Sally.
That evening Harry could not get his blond mistress out of his head. He had to see her once again. When he awoke Harry told Sally that he needed to give his third godson Demise a down-payment on his house. Sally was beginning to wonder why her husband all of a sudden felt this dire need to help his godsons. Harry assured her that everything was alright and he would pay the money back. He expressed to Sally that they were blessed to have three great godsons, because everyone knew great things came in threes, and he couldn't possibly help one and not the others. With reluctance, she suggested that he use their savings account and credit cards to come up with the money.
Once again Sally cleaned house, mowed the lawn, and took out the trash while Harry was off at a bed and breakfast with his mistress. He had such a relaxing day that once again he did not return home until dinner. When Harry returned, Sally asked him how Demise liked the down-payment for his house. Harry stuttered and said “umm…it was fine,” and headed to the shower. Sally was shocked that someone who just received twenty thousand dollars could only find it to be “fine”. Sally needed time to think it through and headed to bed leaving Harry alone to eat his dinner.
A month passed and Harry knew that Sally was on to him. Sally suggested that they go to the bank and remove some of their savings to go on a vacation to Mexico. Harry told Sally that there would be no way for him to get away from work so she did not need to bother. Sally decided to call the bank and find out how much money they had in the account and how much interest they had acquired. She was shocked to find out that their account was empty and their credit cards were tapped out.
When Harry arrived home that night Sally immediately confronted him. “How could you deplete our savings and rack up our credit cards?” They spent the next two hours screaming, throwing, and breaking numerous items in the house. Sally kept questioning and finally Harry had had all he could take. If you say one more word it will be the death of you. Sally was already in mid sentence as her body tumbled into the rose bush. Harry wiped his eye brow and said, “this is the way of the world, thank goodness for life insurance.”
The next morning the local newspaper reported that Sally, wife of Harry, had tripped on a ladder cleaning spider webs and fell to her death from a second story window. No further investigation will occur.
When Harry met Sally he spent a great deal of time confessing his love and commitment to her. Over time he encouraged her to move in with him and share the duties of the house. Harry suggested to Sally that they should put some money away in a savings account so that they could ensure their retirement. He also suggested that Sally take out a five-hundred thousand dollar life insurance policy just in case she tripped and accidentally fell out of the window while she was scrubbing cob webs. Sally agreed and headed to the local bank. That night Harry made it quite clear that neither of them would touch the money, unless of course they were in dire need.
On September 30th Harry woke up and told Sally that he needed to use some of the money for his godson Rich’s college fund and promised to repay the amount that he took out. Deep down Harry was craving the new Rolex watch that his buddy Tom had shown him in the local jewelry store window. Sally encouraged Harry to give as much money as needed feeling confident that he would pay the money back. Harry went straight to the bank and took out half of their savings. As he was heading to the jewelry store he quickly placed his wedding ring in his pocket and walked into the store.
Once inside he noticed a beautiful blond standing behind the counter. He quickly introduced himself and one thing led to another. Harry and his new found mistress spent the day on the beach starring at the matching Rolex watches that reflected the sun. It wasn’t until dinner time that Harry made his way home.
Harry was greeted at the door by the smell of turkey and dumplings and Sally’s smiling face.
“Hi hon, it looks like you had a wonderful day.”
“It went ok,” Harry replied.
“Did Rich like the college fund you set up for him?”
“Oh yes, of course”
Sally could tell that Harry was not in the mood for talking so she let the conversation die. He insisted on needing a shower before dinner and would be back soon.
The next morning Harry woke up and once again needed to see his blond-haired beauty. He told Sally that he needed to be a good godfather again and buy Demi his first car. Sally expressed to Harry how happy she was to have such a special man in his life and suggested he use some of their retirement savings to do so. Harry kissed Sally on the forehead and headed to the bank. He once again removed a significant amount of the savings and used his trusty American Express to take his mistress to the local spa where they enjoyed each others company.
Harry returned at dinner time and once again took a shower and briefly discussed the day’s events with Sally.
That evening Harry could not get his blond mistress out of his head. He had to see her once again. When he awoke Harry told Sally that he needed to give his third godson Demise a down-payment on his house. Sally was beginning to wonder why her husband all of a sudden felt this dire need to help his godsons. Harry assured her that everything was alright and he would pay the money back. He expressed to Sally that they were blessed to have three great godsons, because everyone knew great things came in threes, and he couldn't possibly help one and not the others. With reluctance, she suggested that he use their savings account and credit cards to come up with the money.
Once again Sally cleaned house, mowed the lawn, and took out the trash while Harry was off at a bed and breakfast with his mistress. He had such a relaxing day that once again he did not return home until dinner. When Harry returned, Sally asked him how Demise liked the down-payment for his house. Harry stuttered and said “umm…it was fine,” and headed to the shower. Sally was shocked that someone who just received twenty thousand dollars could only find it to be “fine”. Sally needed time to think it through and headed to bed leaving Harry alone to eat his dinner.
A month passed and Harry knew that Sally was on to him. Sally suggested that they go to the bank and remove some of their savings to go on a vacation to Mexico. Harry told Sally that there would be no way for him to get away from work so she did not need to bother. Sally decided to call the bank and find out how much money they had in the account and how much interest they had acquired. She was shocked to find out that their account was empty and their credit cards were tapped out.
When Harry arrived home that night Sally immediately confronted him. “How could you deplete our savings and rack up our credit cards?” They spent the next two hours screaming, throwing, and breaking numerous items in the house. Sally kept questioning and finally Harry had had all he could take. If you say one more word it will be the death of you. Sally was already in mid sentence as her body tumbled into the rose bush. Harry wiped his eye brow and said, “this is the way of the world, thank goodness for life insurance.”
The next morning the local newspaper reported that Sally, wife of Harry, had tripped on a ladder cleaning spider webs and fell to her death from a second story window. No further investigation will occur.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Dream a little dream... if it could only be so simple.
I like my dreams and I especially like that they are MINE. So naturally, you can imagine my reluctance to sharing my personal unconscious to 12 other classmates and the rest of the WORLD. But hey, what the heck, maybe it will end up being fruitful, cheap therapy for a mind that never has time to relax.
My nights consist of a multitude of dreams (I am envious of the people that are only disturbed once a night). Some are exhausting, confusing, disturbing, and rarely happy. I have never really thought about my dreams. They have always occurred in the same manner with me waking up, feeling somewhat disturbed, blinking multiple times to ensure that I am awake, jumping out of bed and continuing on with my crazy life. I guess I just assumed that the uncertainty of my dreams was part of why I enjoyed that realm of my personal life. It's personal...and I never know what part of my life I will revisit or what new story will be created when my head hits the pillow in sure exhaustion.
I am concerned for the people who evaluate dreams, maybe I should be concerned for myself this semester. I just can't help but wonder if this "other life" could in some way become disturbed if we spend too much time muddling through the uncertainty. I can't help but wonder if I truly examine why I continually dream about being lost, or in a maze, will it reveal some psychological problem that exists and end up sending me to a place I would rather not go (possibly a padded room). I already know I have issues- what person doesn't. My dreams are the place that my mental illnesses can surface without be disturbed, evaluated, and ridiculed.
Enough said...
I have spread my dreams beneath your feet. Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
W.B. Yeats
I like my dreams and I especially like that they are MINE. So naturally, you can imagine my reluctance to sharing my personal unconscious to 12 other classmates and the rest of the WORLD. But hey, what the heck, maybe it will end up being fruitful, cheap therapy for a mind that never has time to relax.
My nights consist of a multitude of dreams (I am envious of the people that are only disturbed once a night). Some are exhausting, confusing, disturbing, and rarely happy. I have never really thought about my dreams. They have always occurred in the same manner with me waking up, feeling somewhat disturbed, blinking multiple times to ensure that I am awake, jumping out of bed and continuing on with my crazy life. I guess I just assumed that the uncertainty of my dreams was part of why I enjoyed that realm of my personal life. It's personal...and I never know what part of my life I will revisit or what new story will be created when my head hits the pillow in sure exhaustion.
I am concerned for the people who evaluate dreams, maybe I should be concerned for myself this semester. I just can't help but wonder if this "other life" could in some way become disturbed if we spend too much time muddling through the uncertainty. I can't help but wonder if I truly examine why I continually dream about being lost, or in a maze, will it reveal some psychological problem that exists and end up sending me to a place I would rather not go (possibly a padded room). I already know I have issues- what person doesn't. My dreams are the place that my mental illnesses can surface without be disturbed, evaluated, and ridiculed.
Enough said...
I have spread my dreams beneath your feet. Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
W.B. Yeats
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