Bronson Alcott died on March 4, ; a few days earlier, bedridden, he had told his visiting daughter Louisa, "I am going up. I drifted, an itinerant, from job to job, the sanatorium where I pureed peas and carrots and stringy beets, scooped them, like pudding, onto flesh-colored plastic plates, or the gas station where I dipped the ten-foot measuring stick into the hole in the blacktop, pulled it up hand over hand into the twilight, dripping its liquid gold, pink-tinged.
One day Lewis sat down to write a story for his goddaughter, Lucy. Before that it was fast food, all the onion rings I could eat, handing sacks of deep fried burritos through the sliding window, the hungry hands grabbing back. He said it "began with a picture of a Faun carrying an umbrella and parcels in a snowy wood.
And at the Laundromat, plucking bright coins from a palm or pressing them into one, kids screaming from the bathroom and twenty dryers on high. Lewis became an atheist after his mother died, and his atheism deepened after he fought on the front lines in France during WWI.
A few days later, Lewis officially converted to Christianity, riding on a motorcycle on the way to the Whipsnade zoo with his brother. I liked the donut shop best, 3 AM, alone in the kitchen, surrounded by sugar and squat mounds of dough, the flashing neon sign strung from wire behind the window, gilding my white uniform yellow, then blue, then drop-dead red.
So, why not give us both a break and just stop thinking about me? The Inklings would arrive slowly between 9 and What she really loved was writing lurid Gothic romances, a fondness that traced back to her childhood acting out stories with her sisters; she wrote three of the thrillers under the pen name "A.
Bronson Alcott was full of dreams and schemes, an idealist who founded a commune called Fruitlands and became a vegan before the term even existed.
Each week they gathered midday in a back room at the Eagle and Child pub which they called the Bird and Baby for food, cider, and informal conversation. I liked holding the hand-blown glass bell from Czechoslovakia up to the light, the jeweled clapper swinging lazily from side to side, its foreign, A-minor ping.
Fruitlands failed miserably, and Alcott got by on loans from others, including his friend Ralph Waldo Emerson, but the Alcotts were often without money. He grew up in a big house out in the country. He studied at Oxford University, and then became a professor there.
So, think about it—why bother? Then one day when I was about 40, I said to myself:The Writer's Almanac with Garrison Keillor: 'What I Wouldn’t Do' by Dorianne Laux, and the literary and historical notes for Friday, June 16, The poem I chose to look at is “What I Wouldn’t Do” by Dorianne Lux.
The idea of this poem is a person, (female, I believe) who describes the many jobs she has had and how she remembers them in her own mind. Dorianne Laux Smash Shack.
At the Smash Shack in Jacksonville, North Carolina. in a cinder block garage, you can don a helmet. and goggles, a glass deflecting black jumper. Dorianne Laux’s fifth collection, The Book of Men, is currently available from W.W.
Norton. Her fourth book of poems, Facts about the Moon, is the recipient of the Oregon Book Award and was short-listed for the Lenore Marshall Poetry Prize.
Her fourth book of poems, Facts about the Moon, is the recipient of the Oregon Book Award and was short-listed for the Lenore Marshall Poetry Prize. Laux is also author of Awake, What We Carry, finalist for the National Book Critic’s Circle Award, and Smoke.
Dorianne Laux was born in Maine and worked as a sanatorium cook, gas station manager, maid, and donut holer before becoming a poet.
As a single mother, she took classes and workshops whenever she could, at a .Download