it will not be a pansy heaven

I called my mom. She wasn't home. We'll survive. I sent her a book as a gift that she got in the mail a few days ago. Of course it's one I want to read, too. As for me, my daughter also got me a book, and my son, well, he was completely oblivious, which we will also survive. It worked for me, since I guilted him in taking the dog out although it was my turn. What are mothers for.

Becoming a mother changed my relationship with the whole world. My ability to empathize exploded, as did my concerns about “the future” of just about everything.

Unlike women who say motherhood gave them something to live for, for me having children gave me something to die for. Not only in that I would jump between them and a hail of bullets, but also in that if they were to die, I would want to die, too. This is clear to me every time they ride the rollercoaster. I don’t want to, but when they get on, I get on. Like I'm going to cushion the crash. Sometimes, though, in a glitch of logic, I send their father.

Here's a poem ee cummings wrote for his mother, read in a not entirely serious way and accompanied by some very low-tech effects. Enjoy.

if i have made,my lady,intricate/imperfect various things

I include myself among those who don’t think a poem should be titled "Untitled.“ In the realm of language, you can't get away with it as easily as a painter can. If I can’t come up with a title, I use the first line. Or I pull something out of the guts of the poem. ee cummings was perfectly happy with numbers/Roman numerals, and so we know all his poems by their first lines. Still, I don’t like when people say “name them like they’re your babies.” That turns me cold. What I think is interesting is how Louise Glück has a bunch of poems with the same title. Five poems named “Vespers,” six poems named “Matins.” It gives me an uneasy feeling. Once I was supposed to meet a reporting source at a bar called Vinum. Turned out there were two bars in town by that name. She went to one while I went to the other. I waited for her a long time, reading a book titled Grass Soup. I remember it distinctly; I had a lovely time, drinking a glass of wine, reading a book about desperation. She was upset that she was waiting for me, alone, in quite another place.

"next to of course god america i / love you

"THE woman in question became a lawyer after some years as a community organizer, married a corporate lawyer and is the mother of two little girls. Herself the daughter of a white American mother and a black African father — she is considered black — she served as a state legislator for eight years, and became an inspirational voice for national unity.

"Be honest: Do you think this is the biography of someone who could be elected to the United States Senate? After less than one term there, do you believe she could be a viable candidate to head the most powerful nation on earth? If you answered no to either question, you’re not alone. Gender is probably the most restricting force in American life...

Read the whole piece by gloria steinem.