if you have no croup kettle

from, :interstitials:, :ab ovo: avail. from SPD

who’s post-coherent now?

§

Croup is a spasm or swelling of the larynx, which usually comes
on during the night.  The cough is a barking one— then
suddenly the child finds it difficult to draw air into the lungs, &
not only becomes frightened himself, but alarms everyone near, as
he appears to be choking.  It helps him to relax if you act calmly,
even though you are frightened.  Hum a tune or sing a song.  If
you have no croup kettle, pick up a newspaper, two safety pins, the
child’s shirt, one of your long stockings, an umbrella, & the child,
& proceed at once to the kitchen.  Make a long spout funnel of
the newspaper (rolling it from one corner to another), then pin it
over the spout of a boiling teakettle.  Wet the shirt in warm
water, put it around the child’s neck, & hold it in place by folding
your stocking under his chin & tying it over his head.  Now bring
the kitchen table near the stove, with its teakettle & newspaper
spout which points over the table.  Sit on the table.  Hold the
child in your lap & open the umbrella over you both.  You have
thus improvised a croup tent.

§

from, Haunted Forest

IX. A Part of This World, and a World of Its Own

It was time as a color, or my
life, in miniature.

It was sunrise & my feet got wet
in the dew. It was all the moon
did, it was my hair, full
of secrets.

A pocketful of frogs, the girl who
gave birth to rabbits, the happiest
crocodile, & party hats for all.

here is what will go here:

Poetry, particularly in-progress, or tracking process.

Prose, which is what my poetry sounds like sometimes (or vice-versa).

Things I find intrinsic to writing, or to what I’m writing now.

Things I currently find intrinsic to writing include knitting (which calms my head, like klonopin in craft-form) & bread (which requires patience & visceral interaction), & soup (the making of which also calms my head, but is far more forgiving than bread & amenable to experimentation).  So maybe sometimes this will be about knitting, &/or bread &/or soup.

Tonight I am knitting fingerless mitts because enclosed spaces make my fingers vaguely claustrophobic.

Tonight’s bread is white/wheat/rye, & cracked from rising, & looks vaguely like Venus of Willendorf.

Tonight’s soup is roasted onions & garlic & red cabbage & potatoes, which is nicer than it sounds.

Hello.