January 22nd and 17th

January 22nd, San Pablo Reservoir and Mt. Diablo From Tilden Park. I kid you not. January 22nd.

January 22nd, 2010 (today) I wrote this on a scrap of paper.

“Ibland saknar man riktiga vintern. Man håller på att drömma om snöflingor och skidor.

och ibland, särskilt på dagarna som idag, gör man det verkligen inte.”

(Sometimes you miss real winter. You start to dream about snowflakes and skis. and sometimes, especially on days like today, you really don’t at all)

—————————————————————————————————————–

January 17th, 2010 (a year ago) I wrote this on a scrap of paper, Swedish-induced misspellings are left intact for comedic value:

“Snow-lapped swings left untended by children

Coppar leaves line the fences

it is all too cold to rot—

mouths too still, a stone silence.

I wipe the ice from the corners of my eyes

and think of Mercury,

kviksilver, poison, marriage.”
——————————————————————————————————————

Conclusively, Swedish winter is good for poetry, but bad for combating depression. Just ask Ingemar.

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