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Interests: Alfons Mucha, Archibald Leach, big words, Bob Hicok, Brian Eno, Cat Power, Charles Bukowski, Charlotte Masaryk, cheese, clarity, dark chocolate, David Byrne, David Foster Wallace, Dorothy Parker, Douglas Adams, Edna St. Vincent Millay, E.E. Cummings, Frank O’Hara, Fred Rogers, garlic, Gaudi, Gertrude Stein, ginger, Gustav Klimt, Iva Pekarkova, Jane Austen, Jaromir Nohavica, Jeanette Winterson, Josef Skvorecky, Joseph Campbell, Joss Whedon, Just a Minute, Kate Bush, Kurt Vonnegut, laughing until it hurts, Laurie Anderson, Leonard Cohen, little kids singing, Lloyd Alexander, mandarin oranges, making lists, Margaret Atwood, Miss Manners, New Yorker, Paul Simon, performance, P.G. Wodehouse, poetry, Rebecca Solnit, Rob Brezsny, Robert Anton Wilson, Robert Creeley, salt, Salvador Dali, secrets, silence, Star Trek, Stephen Dunn, Talking Heads, Terry Gilliam, things that stain, This American Life, Tom Waits, T.S. Eliot, vegetable juice, veiled cultural references, vinegar, water, wine, W.H. Auden

Envying the Crows by Ronald Baatz

A cold winter day spent 
reading, collecting tinder. 
But, my god, the loneliness 
of the hours was overwhelming. 
With age it becomes more and 
more apparent that I need to be 
among people. I have to stop living 
like a monk. Although, it is true, 
monks do live with other monks. 
They pray, take their meals together, 
and perhaps life at the monastery 
is not such a burden. I would never 
have to eat alone in such a place. 
Earlier, I stood eating a can of sardines 
and a piece of unbuttered bread. 
I envied the crows. From the 
kitchen window I had seen them pecking 
at the leftover rice I had thrown out. 
The crows, that had arrived in a group 
and that had left in a group. 
Same as the sardines. 

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