A poetry interlude....

Knowing that J was in Michigan, a special friend stopped by -- just to help. He came bearing Krispy Kreme and CC's coffee. After a couple hours of (him) moving stuff from the destroyed rooms into the rest of the house as I packed boxes and plastic crates full of more stuff to be stacked wherever we can find space through out the house, he grabbed the Sunday papers that were still rolled up inside their plastic bag homes and ushered me out the door.

We spent a long afternoon at la Madeleine reading the Sunday papers while chowing down on French Dip, Chicken Salade Croissant, Tomato Basil soup, yummy cookies, and a couple glasses of wine. One article we came across seemed particularly fitting. Andrei Codrescu (an LSU English professor) has a new book out along with a CD of "Storm Songs" with readings by various people accompanied by the New Orleans Klezmer All Stars. The book came out around the first of September to coincide with the third anniversary of Katrina. Little did anyone realize that Gustav would be bearing down on us -- actually, beating us up at that time.

Here are a couple of excerpts from the book. I've ordered mine from Amazon.

New Orleans after the storm:


"under the silver moonlight
fridges line the street
far as the eye can see
they are still full of meat
more toxic than you and me
dick cheney inside
and president bush too
and that FEMA guy too
tape them doors shut
so they won't come after us..."


Here's one about pet owners who couldn't take their animals with them off the rooftops:

"...lord oh lord why don't we have an ark
that's the helicopters leaving
that's the nation to the rescue
leaving us here in the dark"

"the coffee house philosophers" tells how New Orleans is coming back. middle-class New Orleans residents sitting around coffee houses after the storm "telling our stories over 'n' over/like crickets in the summer grass..."

"...only the very rich and their servants will remain
when we flee your storm-tossed shores new orleans
you have lost your middle class
woe is unto you city of under-upper class
you played at feudal pageants and we laughed
but now you are feudal and we cry"

And, as the last line of the article I quote from said, "And that is more truth than poetry...


Since I'm liberally quoting from Sunday's Advocate, I'll close with this line from Ed Cullen's column: "Homeland Security, which sounds more like Germany in the 1940s than an American department of government, and Homeland Security’s demon spawn, FEMA, are too big and not readily accountable."

Demon spawn -- amen.