THE CAL
Much later
i seriously wanted to ditch tnis post but it conains the sweeyezy si gle mime t of mt literary life.
no clozaril=no slee
b
im tired and i wanna ho to bd
trinational family: American, Canadian, British, gathered at home in B.C., Canada around 1995
Thanksgiving at home in Seminole, FL around 2000
Christmastime in Seminole
stumbled on some old photos to look at as I was so tired i didnt know what else to do.
some words came to mind.
“Nativity, once in the main of light, glory fighypt
gives way to maturity
agaimst which crooked ellipses…
t 60
that was not right and this is really important because i just
experiencef the sweetest epiphany of my lifetime.
the correct words are as follows:
Nativity, once in the main of light, ctawls to maturity,
wherewith being crown’d,
crooked eclipses ‘gainst his glory fight
And Time that gave doth now his gift confound.
From Sonnet 60, which i just identified as my favorite Shakespearean Sonnet, starting, “Like as the waves make toward the pebbled shore…”
a
aloens are blocking m
the back yard in Seminole. Alex kept the pool pristine. The ocean was a quarter of a mule away.
Of
the lastin
ryyand Sonnet 60.
i wrote a poem in 4th grade called “Time.” I remember sitting down in my room on my purple carpet saying to my self, ” They dont think i can do this but i can.” So I did! I have written it here a number of times and dont feel like doing it again. Maybeill add it at the end.y 20s
tne point is, the poem is so literally true in my life. It is called Time. My motner sent it to her mother in England and she sent it to the National Poet Laureate who returned it with a nice note,inh
and here I am, at 61, having battled “crooked ec000the most vivid way totalin ly anf here i am seizing on that word “Time”–“that gave doth now his gift confound.”
mnr b e r , I n d the potr k hs
i had everythng all my life i just didnt understand. I had the gteat gift of poverty thinking of the Beatitutes and such gifts as those that i have found. I was obsessed with fairness, in ither worfs, jus t ice. Im thinking oPhil Colins, “Another Day in Paradise”: poverty in the 20th c.
“s thir
…i will tidy this up latert i wanted to get the poem out.
Timedp er vi a l mr as ninh onli yo ,yr.
by Lynne Murphy, 1970
Yrs i did wriye thid poef. He as nd m.
i showef oy yo a grien from the ” nut circle” agter Wernetsville State Hospital. Je was a poet grom Rutgets. A good one. Bit he made fun of my poem. I was always agraid afyer tjat that jr took thr po e m a nd who km
nows how it might hsve neen used. He and his gruend Lewis (?) Wrote a spoof of iy. I was slways ill at easr over ot agyet th a y. I, not sutr that i shoulf pull iy up again now that i tjink og iy. Nit thrte is domethim
ng Todsnnr sjpilf hete. I gelt so huilty anpit lookung him up agyet the b a ny eas botn as I looked up ebrtyonr rlsr. Nit the was a oriot connevtipn. Shortly begore i legt with sandy (my ex) ovrr that summer Mattin asked me to ho out with him a nd Lrwis yo s monie. It proved to be 2 demi-erotic mo b ies bavk to back. I didnt even getbthsn the back of Martins moyorvt th
y were ytying to start somethin. We went up th thr Pagofa. I rofr on the back of Martins mototvyvle to go there a nd we say upywhere so, we walked thete for s while looking oit over Reading. Im sute that it was onvious to them that this wasnt going anywhere so we walkef down to the motorcycles and i dont remrmber what happenwd nect, henmust have taken me back to my dodge colt and i drove home.
for me it was always a hsppy memory.
Un.Bon.Mot 