Etc. (2) Of roses, spreading manure and poetry

I have been spreading manure. I say this freely, knowing full well that those of inelegant minds will see this statement as an opportunity to characterize my entire career thus. Well, it may be true.

Nonetheless, I oversee 30 rose bushes, most of them floribunda, some tea, a few grandiflora and assorted (alleged) climbers. It may be of interest that one of these insists upon blooming in mid February, a show-off to be sure, but worthy of respect.

I have resisted quoting Gertrude Stein as to a rose is a something or other.

Speaking of poetry, I have received another issue of Poetry. This time the back cover poem is similar to the previous quote {Etc. (1)} in the sense I cannot make head nor tails of it. Perhaps that makes it edgy. Please do not tell me that poetry does not “mean.” Have had quite enough gibberish today.

And when

was the last time

with genuine sorrow

and longing to change

you got on your knees?

I could get some work done

here, I shrugged;

I had done it before.

Franz Wright