Thank you. It sort of comes from two experiences, probably 40 years
apart. One, shooting a model who was standing up on a window sill,
facing away from me and out the window -- in my office at Marist, and
since I'm not teaching there any more, what do I care if they know about
it? The boys throwing snowballs were not there that night, however. They
were there forty years earlier, in my undergraduate days at Bard -- not
my first sexual experience, but very close to it.-- very early into the
relationship with my first love. It was the first big snow of winter,
and a snowball fight was developing out on the main quad. And I was
torn...the apres-sex, or the snowball fight?
And the girl going past, stroking my cheek and leaving...? Story of my life.
Frederick Pollack wrote:
> ----- Original Message ----- From: "TheOldMole" <[log in to unmask]>
> To: <[log in to unmask]>
> Sent: Saturday, May 31, 2008 8:36 PM
> Subject: Toot
>
>
>> A poem, "Mittens," in Glass: A Journal of Poetry.
>>
>> http://glass-poetry.blogspot.com/
>>
>>
>> --
>> Tad Richards
>
>
> "Mittens" is marvelous. I like the way it integrates juvenile
> sexuality - the "boys packing / snowballs" - with adult.
>
> Makes me feel very dull. My own secret fetish is the ol' French
> Maid's Uniform.
--
Tad Richards
http://www.opus40.org/tadrichards/
http://opusforty.blogspot.com/
The moral is this: in American verse,
The better you are, the pay is worse.
--Corey Ford
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