Almost Home

More than halfway across the country, we have encountered brilliant sun, torrential rain, oppressive heat, and the slow burn of a Southern night. This is our trajectory thus far: down the coast of California, through the Redwoods, San Francisco and Los Angeles. (California is now home to a dozen of our friends and neighbors from Hampshire). Then to Las Vegas for one manic night. On to Albuquerque, through the alien landscape of Arizona and New Mexico. Then to Austin, where we saw another gaggle of Hampshire kids. Austin to College Station for two days to visit the lovely and talented Alberto Moreiras and Teresa Vilaros (Camila's parents) in their new house. Alberto now drives an enormous truck and Teresa wears a cowgirl hat with true grace.

After College Station we stopped for lunch in Lake Charles, Louisiana, to visit with our dear poet-rice farmer friend, Rachel Roche. We slept well in New Orleans and fell into the Cafe du Monde tourist trap in the morning (charming but lacks integrity). New Orleans is a place I will return to.

Now in Athens, Georgia, I am entirely stunned by how much I love this state in particular. California and Georgia are the two places that I have fallen in love with on this trip. The South is such a romantic(ized) place, and I'm a little bit frightened and very much enchanted by it. Camila and I have had exceptional hosts in each place we've stayed, but this Camp family (who live in a very beautiful home near Athens) makes me want to stay behind and hunker down and learn about what it's like to live in Georgia and read and write and listen and explore the land here. 

Yet we are still New York-bound, and leave for North Carolina early this afternoon. I feel deliriously glad about everything. 

Morning

by Frank O'Hara

I’ve got to tell you
how I love you always
I think of it on grey
mornings with death
in my mouth the tea
is never hot enough
then and the cigarette
dry the maroon robe
chills me I need you
and look out the window
at the noiseless snow
At night on the dock
the buses glow like
clouds and I am lonely
thinking of flutes
I miss you always
when I go to the beach
the sand is wet with
tears that seem mine
although I never weep
and hold you in my
heart with a very real
humor you’d be proud of
the parking lot is
crowded and I stand
rattling my keys the car
is empty as a bicycle
what are you doing now
where did you eat your
lunch and were there
lots of anchovies it
is difficult to think
of you without me in
the sentence you depress
me when you are alone
Last night the stars
were numerous and today
snow is their calling
card I’ll not be cordial
there is nothing that
distracts me music is
only a crossword puzzle
do you know how it is
when you are the only
passenger if there is a
place further from me
I beg you do not go