Every once in a while I think I’ll just get rid of all my unread New Yorkers; recycle them all in a big slippery pile in a brown paper bag, and then, and then I sit down and read one. And inevitably, I haul that brown paper bag back up to my room and swear that I’ll only read the cartoons or the poems or just the fiction…<\/p>\n
February 11 & 18, 2008’s New Yorker gave me a cartoon with which to make my brother a thank-you card, an article to pass on to a friend, an essay that made me laugh out loud, a quote for my sidebar, and this poem:<\/p>\n
A Measuring Worm by Richard Wilbur<\/p>\n
This yellow striped green<\/p>\n
Caterpillar, climbing up<\/p>\n
The steep window screen,<\/p>\n
Constantly (for lack<\/p>\n
Of a full set of legs) keeps<\/p>\n
Humping up his back.<\/p>\n
It’s as if he sent<\/p>\n
By a sort of semaphore<\/p>\n
Dark omegas meant<\/p>\n
To warn of Last Things.<\/p>\n
Although he doesn’t know it,<\/p>\n
He will soon have wings,<\/p>\n
And I, too, don’t know<\/p>\n
Toward what undreamt condition<\/p>\n
Inch by inch I go.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Every once in a while I think I’ll just get rid of all my unread New Yorkers; recycle them all in a big slippery pile in a brown paper bag, and then, and then I sit down and read one. … Continue reading