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Vermeeresque
by Jean Morris
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Jean Morris lives in London and blogs at tasting rhubarb and Trail Mix. She has a poetic essay and a photo in the current Issue 29 of BluePrintReview.
Capoeira
From this too, May 14, 2006
The Capoeiristas were in Trafalgar Square when we came out of the National Gallery on the first day of wrinkled teeshirts and bare arms blinking in the sunshine and temptation to idleness. Young and multi-ethnic, enviably limber and energetic, they stood round in a circle drumming while two and two and two came forward to perform their teasing acrobatic duets. We watched them for a long time, lulled by warmth and flesh and rhythm, drawn into the shapes and patterns of their strength and playfulness.
by Jean Morris
Ekphrasis 1: Jean + Teju Cole
by Jean Morris of this too
*
Traveling Mercies
Let the sieving-out
of what is possible
from what has been
given, the work of
naming the touchable,
the not-knowing,
the staying imperfectly
still, the question
that comes at 2am
and won’t stop ringing
the doorbell to the brain,
the being journeyed
through, the trembling
in the spinal-cord,
the walking with a limp,
the understanding that
passes all peace,
the half-light after too
long a light, the end
of unceasing renovation,
the shadow life, continue.
by Teju Cole
Tube Exit
by Jean Morris of This Too
Early Learning
I was Primus,
your first shock,
first intellectual,
first seduction by
the power of mind.
Your first big mistake,
first adultery,
first hand-to-hand combat,
I brought us to
your first door slammed
leaving more than
half yourself behind.
by Jean Morris of this too
Splitting
One hot night he fled, crashing the front door behind him. It opened at once and the mad, spiky silhouette of his mother, ashamed to come out in her curlers, yelled: “I hope the bogey man gets you!” He ran the length of their road, maybe a mile. He was nine, small and skinny and no athlete. At the corner he stopped, gasping, and sat for a while on the curb-stone wondering where he could go. Nowhere. So he got up and his body walked back, but his mind never went home. He’s been trying ever since to reunite them.
by Jean Morris of This Too
qarrtsiluni 