Inside my empty bottle I was constructing a lighthouse while all the others were making ships.  

~Charles Simic

"One of life's quiet excitements is to stand somewhat apart from yourself and watch yourself softly becoming the author of something beautiful, even if it is only falling ash."
-Norman Maclean, A River Runs Through It

Looking Back/Looking Forward

It had been 4 years, 3 months, & 13 days between posts here. In trying to recall why I started it, I think it seemed a more suitable outlet for me than Facebook and I could be freed from interactions such as comments and likes as well as give some anonymity and afford true creative expression and opinion.

Over time I became bored with it. I shared it around and became aware of its readers thus I applied filters to what I felt I could post. I stopped being myself. I even played the Facebook game for a while, though recent changes in my life permitted me to close that shithole, not having to maintain a page for an employer. If I have a Facebook page again it will likely be out of necessity because I chose to make a buck off my writing. 

At any rate, I'm aware old viewers may stumble back and that is what it is. I resume here for some self expression when deeper endeavors are unyielding yet I still need to fling a hook. 

...with mine own eyes....

the Naked Warrior returns
"An island is but the top of a mountain." - Joseph Conrad
Welcome home.

a little Q & A

What are you thinking about?
The field of hay out front lies cut and in tidy windrows.
I would most miss light if I were blind.

What is something interesting that has happened lately?
To me?... I've spent money I can't afford to spend so as I can spend a week with a bunch of writers soon.

What are you reading?
Lots of research right now on writing and some select authors.
I have four books going... just interested enough to continue though none are exciting me enough to even speak further of. I'm distracted... I may go walk between those windrows before the light changes.

Any words of advice?
I post quotes and thoughts here that can easily serve as advice. My profundity is instantaneous but not always frequent. In appreciation of the question I'll say what I sometimes tell myself: do the next thing.

In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on.
-Robert Frost

Life is a process of becoming, a combination of states we have to go through. Where people fail is that they wish to elect a state and remain in it. This is a kind of death.
-Anais Nin

Frisbeetarianism is the belief that when you die, your soul goes up on the roof and gets stuck.
-George Carlin

Words are a heavy thing.
If birds could talk they couldn't fly.
-Marilyn Whirlwind

Thought for who knows how long...

There are many people who reach their conclusions about life like schoolboys; they cheat their master by copying the answer out of a book without having worked out the sum for themselves. -Soren Kierkegaard, philosopher __________________________

Answers

Where have you been?
Nowhere. Lots of places. I covered this in a post long ago. (The gall of an employer to not let me access blogspot at work!) I'm not online at home or on my "mobile phone".

What are you reading?
Ah, one of my favorite questions to ask and answer.
Present reading list:
In This Our Life by Ellen Glasgow
An early edition of the Poetry 180 book compiled by Billy Collins
Just picked up Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Strout
I got around to reading The Good Earth by Pearl Buck. How did I miss something so good, for so long?
Other recent reads: The Watermelon King by Daniel Wallace and The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time by Mark Haddon.
I'm omitting listing academic reading so as not to arouse suspicion.

What do you think of Obama?
Who? Next question.
It's soon 2011 A. B. (that's after Boucher)
(please note evasive, quasi-ignorant answer)

Done anything exciting?
Why, yes. Saw Trans Siberian Orchestra in concert.
Spent a few days at Hatteras fishing.
I've become a better person with the help of the Lawd and therapy.
(Does anyone know who Lawd is?)

Anything else worth telling?
To this unnamed, faded audience? I don't suppose.
I do a lot of push ups these days. I'm thinking of becoming a shadow boxer.

Happy Advent and remember, blue is more than the color of lonesome.

a thought for lately & tomorrow

. . . somewhere along the line, you changed. You stopped being you. You let people stick a finger in your face and tell you you're no good. And when things got hard, you started looking for something to blame, like a big shadow. Let me tell you something you already know. The world ain't all sunshine and rainbows. It's a very mean and nasty place and I don't care how tough you are it will beat you to your knees and keep you there permanently if you let it. You, me, or nobody is gonna hit as hard as life. But it ain't about how hard ya hit. It's about how hard you can get it and keep moving forward. How much you can take and keep moving forward. That's how winning is done! Now if you know what you're worth then go out and get what you're worth. But ya gotta be willing to take the hits, and not pointing fingers saying you ain't where you wanna be because of him, or her, or anybody! Cowards do that and that ain't you!
-Rocky Balboa

It ain't me either, Rock. Thanks.
_________________________________

thought for 5.29.2010

Nature is ever at work building and pulling down, creating and destroying, keeping everything whirling and flowing, allowing no rest but in rhythmical motion, chasing everything in endless song out of one beautiful form into another.
-John Muir, Naturalist and explorer (1838-1914)

feedback

The thought for the day of 11.23.2009 post has generated a few questions from blog readers directed primarily at whether or not I agree. Usually, the questions have an air of some degree of immediate disagreement with the assertion. I wonder if colliding with some truth in it is what gets some riled? My usual response to questions is that it was posted to challenge thinking. As to what I think... come on, do you really think you know me? If anyone knows the best sword has two sides...

poem by Rainer Maria Rilke

I Am Much Too Alone in This World, Yet Not Alone

I am much too alone in this world, yet not alone
enough
to truly consecrate the hour.
I am much too small in this world, yet not small
enough
to be to you just object and thing,
dark and smart.
I want my free will and want it accompanying
the path which leads to action;
and want during times that beg questions,
where something is up,
to be among those in the know,
or else be alone.

I want to mirror your image to its fullest perfection,
never be blind or too old
to uphold your weighty wavering reflection.
I want to unfold.
Nowhere I wish to stay crooked, bent;
for there I would be dishonest, untrue.
I want my conscience to be
true before you;
want to describe myself like a picture I observed
for a long time, one close up,
like a new word I learned and embraced,
like the everday jug,
like my mother's face,
like a ship that carried me along
through the deadliest storm.

Thank you, Claudia, for sharing Rilke with me.

_____

I'm going to bitch a little...

You just shouldn't have to go to the library and listen to the death metal "music" coming from the headphones of the punk-ass flunky next to you and be the one to say turn it down. Where is the Library Nazi?
Of course, I don't know that he is a punk-ass flunky. He may very well be a local doctor just back from a foreign land and while there, got a host of institutional tattoos and just hasn't had time to pick up another BMW before dropping by the library to play Internet poker.
I'm trying to be nice.

currently reading (5.13.2010):

Lamb by Christopher Moore

Home by Marilynne Robinson

thoughts for 5.9.2010

Some obscure quotes from G. K. Chesterton as selected by the blogger:

Do not free a camel of the burden of his hump; you may be freeing him from being a camel.

The word "good" has many meanings. For example, if a man were to shoot his grandmother at a range of five hundred yards, I should call him a good shot, but not necessarily a good man.

The poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of cheese.

thought for 5.1.2010

The condition of being forgiven is self-abandonment. The proud man prefers self-reproach, however painful -because the reproached self isn't abandoned; it remains intact.”
-Aldous Huxley

_____

thought for 4.17.2010

The truth that many people never understand, until it is too late, is that the more you try to avoid suffering the more you suffer because smaller and more insignificant things begin to torture you in proportion to your fear of being hurt.
-Thomas Merton

_____

more thought for day...

I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next. Delicious ambiguity.
-Gilda Radner -actress and comedian (1946-1989)

_____

thought for 4.10.2010, etc.

It will not do to investigate the subject of religion too closely, as it is apt to lead to infidelity.
-Abraham Lincoln, 16th US President (1809-1865)

What the hell did he mean by that?

_____

Another Post to last a while...

Poisons and medicine are oftentimes the same substance given with different intents.
-Peter Mere Latham, physician and educator (1789-1875)

___

Thought for. . . who knows how long?

Until you dig a hole, you plant a tree, you water it and make it survive, you haven't done a thing. You are just talking.
-Wangari Muta Maathai, activist and Nobel laureate (b. 1940)

_____

A Brief Statement on Blog Access

Dear Reader(s):
Lawdy crap, it's been close to a month since I've posted! I still have not arranged Internet access at my residence. Hell, I feel as if I'm not there much anyway. I think this is how it will have to be for a while so if anyone wants their subscription refunded (prorated, of course) just let me know. We aim to please our readers here at WTF Publishing, Inc.
Warm Wishes!
BW

a thought for 3.7.2010

Our greatest pretenses are built up not to hide the evil and the ugly in us, but our emptiness. The hardest thing to hide is something that is not there.
-Eric Hoffer, philosopher and author (1902-1983)

_____

John Gorka

Last week I had the pleasure of seeing John Gorka, one of my musical heroes. It was a generous two set performance in a quaint store front music hall. I was pleased that the show had numerous songs from my favorite Gorka album, Jack's Crows. This was surprising as he has released numerous albums since its release. The newest material was pretty good, better live than on the CD I purchased. I like John with just the guitar and not the extras you can do in studio, however, I know that is part of the fun of making a record. I spoke with him after the show and found him to be kind and affable. He asked me if I still played... not enough John, not like I used to dream about. I'm grateful he has been able to do so. Life has a sound track and John's songs are a part of mine.

another thought for 3/2/2010

The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous feeling of the words being there, written in invisible ink and clamoring to become visible.
-Vladimir Nabokov, (1899-1977)
_____

poem by Simic

The Initiate

St. John of the Cross wore dark glasses
As he passed me on the street.
St. Theresa of Avila, beautiful and grave,
Turned her back on me.

"Soulmate," they hissed. "It's high time."

I was a blind child, a wind-up toy . . .
I was one of death's juggling red balls
On a certain street corner
Where they peddle things out of suitcases.

The city like a huge cinema
With lights dimmed.
The performance already started.

So many blurred faces in a complicated plot.

The great secret which kept eluding me: knowing who I am . . .

The Redeemer and the Virgin,
Their eyes wide open in the empty church
Where the killer came to hide himself . . .

The new snow on the sidewalk bore footprints
That could have been made by bare feet.
Some unknown penitent guiding me.
In truth, I didn't know where I was going.
My feet were frozen,
My stomach growled.

Four young hoods blocking my way.
Three deadpan, one smiling crazily.

I let them have my black raincoat.

Thinking constantly of the Divine Love
and the Absolute had disfigured me.
People mistook me for someone else.
I heard voices after me calling out unknown names.
"I'm searching for someone to sell my soul to,"
The drunk who followed me whispered,
While appraising me from head to foot.

At the address I had been given.
The building had large X's over its windows.
I knocked but no one came to open.
By and by a black girl joined me on the steps.
She banged at the door till her fist hurt.

Her name was Alma, a propitious sign.
She knew someone who solved life's riddles
In a voice of an ancient Sumerian queen.
We had a long talk about that
While shivering and stamping our wet feet.

It was necessary to stay calm, I explained,
Even with the earth trembling,
And to continue to watch oneself
As if one were a complete stranger.

Once in Chicago, for instance,
I caught sight of a man in a shaving mirror
Who had my naked shoulders and face,
But whose eyes terrified me!
Two hard staring, all-knowing eyes!

After we parted, the night, the cold, and the endless walking
Brought on a kind of ecstasy.
I went as if pursued, trying to warm myself.

There was the East River; there was the Hudson.
Their waters shone like oil in sanctuary lamps.

Something supreme was occurring
For which there will never be any words.

The sky was full of racing clouds and tall buildings,
Whirling and whirling silently.

In that whole city you could hear a pin drop.
Believe me.
I thought I heard a pin drop and I went looking for it.

Charles Simic

_____

look carefully...

thought for 3/2/2010

Homo sapiens is the species that invents symbols in which to invest passion and authority, then forgets that symbols are inventions.
-Joyce Carol Oates, writer (b. 1938)
_____

Work Place Ethics

I have not posted here because the company that owns the company that I work for blocked blogspot and several other sites. How dare they do such a thing?! I'm not online at my residence and I don't seem to find the time or patience to sit where there is public wi fi access. I'm not sure what the solution is except that for now posts will be sporadic and I'm giving thought to getting wired at home.
Illegitimi non carborundum

quote on Baptism

"The old Irish when immersing a babe at baptism left out the right arm so that it would remain pagan for good fighting."
-unknown source

-Lordy, Pastor Kluttz only got the top of my head wet.

_____

February 9, 2010

A man's age is something impressive, it sums up his life: maturity reached slowly and against many obstacles, illnesses cured, griefs and despairs overcome, and unconscious risks taken; maturity formed through so many desires, hopes, regrets, forgotten things, loves. A man's age represents a fine cargo of experiences and memories.
~Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, Wartime Writings 1939-1944, translated from French by Norah Purcell

_____

Sir, why have you written so little lately?

There are a number of reasons. Here are some of them:

• I'm really busy working two jobs.
• I haven't had much to say in my own words in this venue and it has not been the place to articulate a lot of what I've been thinking about.
• I'm a little bit bored with it.

It does remain a fun place to display quotes that affirm and/or challenge my thinking and the occasional poem and author that strikes a resonant chord. I'm not doing as much reading as I'd like to of late, I think due to the same reasons bulleted above so that seems to mean less writing on my part. Life's a little bit of a mess right now and I think I've grown to measure my words here some. I'm happiest when I'm in specific, select company or happen to have a day I can permit myself to just be in my space and read, write, and think, despite the fact that there are chores to do. I am perpetually guilty of taking myself too seriously and I vow to work on this as soon as I find my wrestling tights. Come to think of it, this post is exactly why I'm not putting much on here because who wants to read a bunch of bullshit? (sorry I cussed, Mom)

thought for 1.11.2010

You talk when you cease to be at peace with your thoughts.
-Khalil Gibran, mystic, poet, and artist (1883-1931)

_____

a last bit on grief:

I have learned more about my dear friend Margrit's death, or at least the days leading up to it. She had just returned from a cruise in the Caribbean that was sponsored by a favorite publication of hers. She had also managed a road trip from Virginia to Michigan to bring her car to her residence there. Margrit always said that a memorial service was unlikely to occur after her death but as it turns out there may be one in the spring back at her beloved mountain home.
It was a life worthy of celebration.

Let's go light today....

thought for 1.4.2010

When love is not madness, it is not love.
-Pedro Calderon de la Barca, poet and dramatist (1600-1681)
_____

trio of thoughts on grieving

Man, when he does not grieve, hardly exists.
~Antonio Porchia, Voces, 1943, translated from Spanish by W.S. Merwin

Memory is a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose.
~From the television show The Wonder Years

The deep pain that is felt at the death of every friendly soul arises from the feeling that there is in every individual something which is inexpressible, peculiar to him alone, and is, therefore, absolutely and irretrievably lost.
~Arthur Schopenhauer

Bless you, dear Margrit...

_____

I am sad

Today I learned of the death of one of my dearest friends. Her name is Margrit, a sassy German that was in her 9th decade of living and consistently gifted me with acceptance and encouragement the eleven years I knew her. Margrit and I were always real about such things as her inevitable death. I am sad that I will never ride the train from Windsor to Toronto with her, or share another literary find, or sip tea in the parlor that smelled of old books and simpler times. I did once swim in the ocean with her and I took her convertible for a joy ride. These and many other memories will decorate my existence from now on. I don't believe in luck but all I can say is I was a lucky son of a bitch to have known her.

the lovely wisdom of Charles Simic

Inside my empty bottle I was constructing a lighthouse while all the others were making ships. ~Charles Simic

_____

thought for 12.21.2009

Turn your face to the sun and the shadows fall behind you.
~Maori Proverb
_____

thought for 12.18.2009

The important question is not what have you been through but rather what did you learn?
-Theris Mortese, profundity junkie and adventurer (1968- )

_____

poem by Sherman Alexie

Poverty of Mirrors

You wake these mornings alone and nothing
can be forgiven; you drink the last
swallow of warm beer from the can
beside the bed, tell the stranger sleeping
on the floor to go home. It's too easy

to be no one with nothing to do, only
slightly worried about the light bill
more concerned with how dark day gets.

You walk alone on moist pavement wondering
what color rain is in the country.
Does the world out there revolve around rooms
without doors or windows? Centering the mirror
you found in the trash, walls seem closer
and you can never find the right way

out, so you open the fridge again
for a beer, find only rancid milk and drink it
whole. This all tastes too familar.

Copyright ©1992 Sherman Alexie

_____

thought for 12.17.2009

Many demolitions are actually renovations.
-Jalaluddin Rumi, poet and mystic (1207-1273)
_____

clever rabbit

thought for work days

I have tried to work by this credo for years. I'd say only lately have I succeeded. I don't find a lot of joy working with people but I do find it necessary. Joy is a topic, beautifully deep and wide, that I may take up another time here.


When you are doing the sort of work you have taken on, you may have to face the fact that your work will be apparently worthless and even achieve no worth at all, if not perhaps, results opposite to what you expect.

As you get used to this idea, you will start more and more to concentrate not on the results, but on the value, the rightness, the truth of the work itself.

-Thomas Merton
_____

thought for 12.15.2009

We must embrace pain and burn it as fuel for our journey.
-Kenji Miyazawa, poet and story writer (1896-1933)
_____

poem by Henry Taylor

RISING A ONE-EYED HORSE

One side of his world is always missing.
You may give it a casual wave of the hand
or rub it with your shoulder as you pass,
but nothing on his blind side ever happens.

Hundreds of trees slip past him into darkness,
drifting into a hollow hemisphere
whose sounds you will have to try to explain.
Your legs will tell him not to be afraid

if you learn never to lie. Do not forget
to turn his head and let what comes come seen:
he will jump the fences he has to if you swing
toward them from the side that he can see

and hold his good eye straight. The heavy dark
will stay beside you always; let him learn
to lean against it. It will steady him
and see you safely through diminished fields.

thought for 12.9.09

Sometimes you have to play a long time to be able to play like yourself.
-Miles Davis

_____

Should Creative Writing be taught?

Read the article in The New Yorker. Click here.

thought for 12.3.2009

This may be the only Mark Twain quote I ever post.
Every one is a moon, and has a dark side which he never shows to anybody.
-Mark Twain, author and humorist (1835-1910)

_____

thought for 11.27.2009

Words / as slippery as smooth grapes, / words exploding in the light / like dormant seeds waiting / in the vaults of vocabulary, / alive again, and giving life: / once again the heart distills them.
-Pablo Neruda, poet and diplomat (1904-1973)

_____

poem by George Garrett

Feeling Good, Feeling Fine

After pleas and persuasion, all the frozen
uniform gestures of prose,
having said my say; my hup and hip,
the closeorder rhythms of dismounted drill,
I have come back alone to naked verse--
a man singing and dancing in the shower.

God knows I have known the deepest cold,
have slept with snow and waked to wind,
to shining wind blowing all the white way
from old Siberia. We huddled then
by little fires, blew on blue fingers,
called coffee more precious than blood.

Goodbye boots and parka. Oh, so long
to the clumsy soupbowl of my helmet.
Pack and rifle, belts and gear all gone,
I hang my dogtags and towel on a nail
to lightheaded, lighthearted, stand
in rosy steam and sing your name

and mine again. O what is a man
singing offkey with pure joy,
dancing loosejointed calypso and highlife,
with no more weight to carry now
that one slight, brightly astonished heart?
Go ask somebody else. I am alive again.

I who was cold to bones am warm and clean.
I who was heavy as a walking bear
am bare of all burdens and briefly free
of fear for now and do not give a damn
who hears my voice and laughs out loud.
Clown or shorn lamb, I have my pride.

But if you happen to laugh, I'll be happy.
And if you choose to clap your hands,
I'll shower you with roses and breathe steam.
I am unarmed. I do not even have a knife.
The letter kills, the spirit giveth life.

_____

thought for 11.23.2009

One can promise actions, but not feelings, for the latter are involuntary. He who promises to love forever or hate forever or be forever faithful to someone is promising something that is not in his power.
-Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche, philosopher
_____

randomly...

• Is there any greater declaration of independence than "I walk alone"?
• Yes, I am an egg rancher.
• I could have sat and watched the river yesterday for hours. Swelled to twice its usual size, it had half of the discarded crap in the world floating on it. Would have been better than television.
• Speaking of the screen, I'm getting the movie watching bug. Lots of subtitled films will be in my future. Hard to find someone who will watch something subtitled with you. My cat does a pretty good job of it.
• I'm coming out of the closet. I do like Sting.
• I do amuse myself, above all.

Claudia Emerson

Claudia Emerson is one of my favorite poets. This is a very interesting link to some of her work.
http://www.southernspaces.org/contents/2009/emerson/1a.htm

Early November thoughts, etc.

• The hens are laying eggs. There is a certain contentment in working with chickens.
• I'm still adjusting to working a part time job on top of my regular work.
• I'm in the midst of a "project" which is really deep cleaning the hell out of my living space and finding new and better places for my stuff. It's quite enjoyable.
• I'm going through a bit of a dry spell with my reading. I'm in the middle of a couple of books right now but can't find the motivation to pick them up. There is much cause for introspection lately and my thoughts are, perhaps, there.
• My daughter gives the sweetest hugs.

thought for 10.29.2009

I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief.... For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
~Wendell Berry, "The Peace of Wild Things"

_____

equanimity

I took this morning off from work and stretched wire over the top of the chicken coop. It has been some time since these hands have worked at driving steeples and sweat made its way down my back from such endeavors. The hens cackled about my feet with their colors rivaling the Autumn taking place around us. I have missed the land and the work necessary to bend it into servitude. The girls have yet to lay and they should have. I placed fake plastic eggs, wrangled from the daughter's toy bins, in their laying boxes along with changing around their confines a bit. I expect this to be stimulating to them. Tomorrow- eggs! Glorious hen fruit. A nice desert to go along with today's piece of mind from working with them.

Hühner

Yesterday I became a wealthy man. I acquired 9 chickens. Surely this would make me like a king in a society somewhere. Today I came to work with a chicken feather stuck to my shoe. This also makes me very special though not so highly favored as the feather was stuck to the shoe with chicken shit.

thoughts for 10.23.2009

I love mankind - it's people I can't stand.
~Charles M. Schulz, Go Fly a Kite, Charlie Brown

I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude. We are for the most part more lonely when we go abroad among men than when we stay in our chambers.
~Henry David Thoreau, "Solitude," Walden, 1854

When the superficial wearies me, it wearies me so much that I need an abyss in order to rest. ~Antonio Porchia, Voces, 1943, translated from Spanish by W.S. Merwin

_____

another thought for 10.22.2009

Grief is the tax we pay on our attachments.
-Thomas Lynch, Poet and Author

_____

thought for 10.22.2009

Pride, like laudanum and other poisonous medicines, is beneficial in small, though injurious in large, quantities. No man who is not pleased with himself, even in a personal sense, can please others.
-Frederick Saunders, librarian and essayist (1807-1902)

_____

poem by Charles Wright

Last Supper

I seem to have come to the end of something, but don’t know what,
Full moon blood orange just over the top of the redbud tree.
Maundy Thursday tomorrow,
then Good Friday, then Easter in full drag,
Dogwood blossoms like little crosses
All down the street,
lilies and jonquils bowing their mitred heads.

Perhaps it’s a sentimentality about such fey things,
But I don’t think so. One knows
There is no end to the other world,
no matter where it is.
In the event, a reliquary evening for sure,
The bones in their tiny boxes, rosettes under glass.

Or maybe it’s just the way the snow fell
a couple of days ago,
So white on the white snowdrops.
As our fathers were bold to tell us,
it’s either eat or be eaten.
Spring in its starched bib,
Winter’s cutlery in its hands. Cold grace. Slice and fork.

thought for 10.14.2009

Illegal aliens have always been a problem in the United States. Ask any Indian.
-Robert Orben

_____

"Geez, write something!"

Very well. Some thoughts randomly tossed down here:

• I didn't take the house mentioned earlier here. Why? I simply changed my mind. Where I'm at is where I'll stay, for a few more moments.
• I begin a part time job today. It isn't in a book store. I'm amused that I seem to have almost no trouble getting hired in the human services field but drop an application at a book store and a black hole appears. Oh well, I have my old QMHP status back.
• The Braves almost made the playoffs. That was exciting.
• I was so thoroughly pleased with the last poem I wrote that I have had a hard time returning to writing. I just keep admiring the damn thing. I'm feeling internally pushed to take on another form... the short story. I've read that some think poetry is the hardest form of writing. I think I write it because it is easier for me. Concise. Rich. How much can I say in a simple word?
• Spent part of a day at a nearby vineyard yesterday. I could work with wine.

thought for 10.13.2009

You'll find that many of the truths we cling to depend greatly on our own point of view.
-Obi Wan Kenobi

_____

thought for 10.5.2009

In reality, every reader is, while he is reading, the reader of his own self.
-Marcel Proust, novelist (1871-1922)
_____

Poem by George Garrett

Memorial Service

Forgiving the living is hard
enough, shrugging away all the wounds
delivered with kisses and curses,
the thousand and one petty slights
that bled me to an albino shade,
that shadow me even in dreams.

But the dead are altogether
another matter, not easily to be
enlightened and quite beyond regretting
anything (as far as we can tell)
and most likely indifferent to
our common currency of tears.

And so it is that pissing on your grave
doesn't please me as much as it ought to.
Now that you have passed beyond
all blaming and shaming, what can I do
but rise and proclaim sincere admiration
when my turn comes around to speak?

Source: Poetry (July 2002).
_____

thought for 9.30.2009

Life isn't about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself.
-George Bernard Shaw, writer, Nobel laureate (1856-1950)

_____

thought for 9.28.2009

The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong.
-Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi (1869-1948)

_____

Poem by Claudia Emerson

Frame, An Epistle

Most of the things you made for me—blanket-

chest, lapdesk, the armless rocker—I gave

away to friends who could use them and not

be reminded of the hours lost there,

not having been witness to those designs,

the tedious finishes. But I did keep

the mirror, perhaps because like all mirrors,

most of these years it has been invisible,

part of the wall, or defined by reflection—

safe—because reflection, after all, does change.

I hung it here in the front, dark hallway

of this house you will never see, so that

it might magnify the meager light,

become a lesser, backward window. No one

pauses long before it. But this morning,

as I put on my overcoat, then straightened

my hair, I saw outside my face its frame

you made for me, admiring for the first

time the way the cherry you cut and planed

yourself had darkened, just as you said it would.

Source: Poetry (July 2003)

_____

new gee-tar

I have owned some very fine guitars in my more musical days, all sold off due to so little interest in playing. For some time I've had the one I started with nearly 25 years ago handy to hit on a little when the urge comes. It's cheap and rough and full of good memories. I decided it needed a partner so I picked up a decent used guitar of a different style from what I've previously had. Instead of the usual dreadnought body, this is a grand auditorium. Also, it has on board electronics (gasp!) for amplification. Meet the new to me gee-tar, The Taylor. Thanks, Jen!

I'm back in the saddle again....
I just ride closer to the house.

Endorsement

Theris Mortese, our patron philosopher, proudly endorses Jameson Irish Whiskey. Always in moderation. Neat when melancholy. On the rocks when sassy.

Currently Reading

The Quiet American by Graham Greene.

Glory River by David Huddle.

_____

thought for 9.21.2009

Morality comes with the sad wisdom of age, when the sense of curiosity has withered.
-Graham Greene

_____

housing decision

I took the house. Let the catharsis of moving begin.

Anxiety Over Dwelling

For some two years I've occupied the second floor of a farm house divided into two apartments that ceased being a farm house a good many years ago. The folks downstairs are nice and quiet and the location has offered the required measure of solitude and views reminiscent of homes past to sustain me. It is now time to move to something new. The daughter deserves more room than she has and I require a space dedicated for writing. This costs money, the spending of which causes me more anxiety and it also requires decision making, which I have increasingly become poor at. Why such confessions here? (Why the hell not?) I'm struck with how very much a sense of place means to me. I can't buy a place just yet to call my own, at least not without help that I'm unwilling to take. Also, I am unable to allow a place rented to really feel like home. Me and the bank don't own it. So much is about processes and this is certainly that. The result of all this is an opportunity to rent a house near where I presently live which will give me more room but also will cost more. So I need to make a decision. I need to make a decision.....

thought for 9.18.2009

Ability is nothing without opportunity.
—Napolèon Bonaparte

_____

piece of a poem by David Huddle

from "1970"

. . . the way I see it now
is that I, David R. Huddle,

your basic twenty-eight-year-old,
moderately stoned, white,
liberal grad student, sat

right at the focal point at the exact
moment when the nation
made its final turn away from love

and generosity and toward greed,
hatred of the poor, bullying
the rest of the world, and pillaging

what's left of paradise.

_____

a thought for 9.16.2009

The poet knows himself only on the condition that things resound in him, and that in him, at a single awakening, they and he come forth together out of sleep.
-Jacques Maritain

_____

Movies

I've not said much about movies here on the blog. Surprising as I do enjoy them, especially when the days are longer and colder. I am more of a foreign film and independent film kind of a guy. However, as I've made effort to keep my evenings a little mellower the last few days I've watched a couple that I've found simply good from the popular isles at the video store.
Charlie Wilson's War was well written, well directed, and very well acted.
The Reader was not so well put together but I enjoyed the ongoing tension in the story. Kate Winslet did a beautiful job with her role and please, I'm not saying that because she was nude.
I'd say that is it for movie watching for a spell. I'm off to a local University this evening to enjoy an author reading and the weekend will be filled with daughterly endeavors.

thought for 9.10.2009

The actions of men are the best interpreters of their thoughts.
-John Locke, philosopher (1632-1704)

_____

a note from the blogger

Dear Blog Readers,

As you may have observed, I don't usually go this many days without a post of some kind. I have had a bit of a forced hiatus due to a trip to the ER and a night in the hospital over the weekend. No pity is warranted. It was, as all things are, a learning experience.

I had ignored chest pains for a few days because they did not accompany other symptoms that usually indicate heart issues. The pain became too great Saturday morning and I could no longer leave the issue to chance. The people involved in my care were kind and after initial treatments and tests I am mostly fine. I do not wish to spend another night in the hospital despite the kindness of the staff so I am making some changes.

I'd like to think I inherited my propensity for worrying from my maternal grandmother but I know I carry a small variety of genetic crosses from both sides of my family. I have a daughter to help raise, poems and stories to write, and so many good foods to taste and things to see. I don't care for trite phrases such as "wake up call" but I do know that light indeed flutters up from dark places and I am that light. I will continue to shine in those quiet corners of existence but now with a truer appreciation for that gift, simply because there is more to see.

Forward,

Theris (W)

a thought for 9/3/2009

Isn't it enough to see that a garden is beautiful without having to believe that there are fairies at the bottom of it too?
-Douglas Adams, writer, dramatist, and musician (1952-2001)


Also, today is the birthday of this writer's mother.
"Happy Birthday, Mom!"

_____

The Fruit of Burden

The tree referenced in my 21 August post.

lyrics of Coming Back to Life

Lost in thought and lost in time
While the seeds of life and
the seeds of change were planted
Outside the rain fell dark and slow
While I pondered on this dangerous
but irresistible pastime
I took a heavenly ride through our silence
I knew the moment had arrived
For killing the past and coming back to life

-David Gilmour (guitarist and singer with Pink Floyd)

_____

thought for 9/1/2009

“Poets are soldiers that liberate words from the steadfast possession of definition.”
-Eli Khamarov

_____

another thought for 8/27/2009

We forfeit three-fourths of ourselves in order to be like other people.
- Arthur Schopenhauer

_____

a thought for 8/27/2009

"If you can't say it clearly, you don't understand it yourself."
-John Searle

_____

a funny

Some notable things for me...

• I came across three poems by Fred Chappell in an old copy of Shenandoah I picked up at a used book store. Wonderful poetry and I'm looking forward to finding more.
• For three seasons now on my morning walks I've watched an apple tree in an unknown neighbor's yard fill and bend with its fruit. I feel good when I see this. There is nourishment even in the mere sight of this gift.
• For the past few weeks, on these same morning walks, my presence will occasionally scatter yellow finches from their high weed perches like confetti at a party for the morning. I see these colorful birds and think of my true friends, Don and Sharon, the comfort of their front porch, and the finches that gather to feed at the low end of their yard. And then I think of the way Sharon fries cabbage, and trout, and her gravy biscuits.... I'm awfully damn fortunate to have some friends.

thought for 8/18/2009

From one of the more endearing episodes of Northern Exposure:

Goethe's final words: "More light." Ever since we crawled out of that primordial slime, that's been our unifying cry: "More light." Sunlight. Torchlight. Candlight. Neon. Incandescent. Lights that banish the darkness from our caves, to illuminate our roads, the insides of our refrigerators. Big floods for the night games at Soldier's field. Little tiny flashlight for those books we read under the covers when we're supposed to be asleep. Light is more than watts and footcandles. Light is metaphor. Thy word is a lamp unto my feet. Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Lead, Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom Lead Thou me on! The night is dark, and I am far from home- Lead Thou me on! Arise, shine, for thy light has come. Light is knowledge. Light is life. Light is light.
-Chris Stevens

_____

Important!

Random Musing

Q: So, what have you been thinking about lately?

A: Oh, well... here is a list:

• Why antibiotics make you so gassy.
• That I don't like Tony Rice's album Me and My Guitar quite as much as I remembered. But I still like it.
• Whether or not I should get another cat or maybe just some fish. I think The Kitty is lonely when I'm not there.
• I may actually have an eye for photographic composition.
• The Braves played three nights in a row on t.v. and I saw all or parts of all three. So, did Jesus read my posts about seldom getting to see or hear the Braves and bless me?
• How my daughter is getting along in school.
• How much I'd like to hop a big plane and go to Fort Worth and see my buddy McDave.
• How it's time for the triennial sushi eating and hug fest with my pal "b". Does it have to average every three years?
• How I really want to get Only The Little Bone by David Huddle read soon....

Exciting, ain't it? Perhaps you thought all I do with my time is swim in melancholy pools and collect poems and sayings. Psst, I also play with fart putty, but only at my office.

_____

a thought for 8/17/2009

We lie the loudest when we lie to ourselves.
-Eric Hoffer, philosopher and author (1902-1983)

_____

The Pocket Watch

In 1968 it was handed to my mother

wrapped in a soft cloth

a gift for an infant child

whose time had only started

___

It belonged to my

grandfather's father

"Hack" they called him

its line to me thicker than blood

___

I will give it to my child one day

with stories and a firmness

that the best things

come from those who truly love you

_______

thought for 8/11

“The way to find out about happiness is to keep your mind on those moments when you feel most happy, when you are really happy — not excited, not just thrilled, but deeply happy. This requires a little bit of self-analysis. What is it that makes you happy? Stay with it, no matter what people tell you. This is what is called following your bliss.”
-Joseph Campbell

from Sunday's paper:

While looking through this past Sunday's paper, particularly Parade Magazine, I came across this interesting piece in the Personality section:

Q Why are my tax dollars going to pay a poet laureate when nobody reads poetry?—Jeff Kawabata, Omaha, Neb.
A “It is difficult/to get the news from poems/yet men die miserably every day/for lack/of what is found there,” wrote the great American poet William Carlos Williams. (We hope you’ll look him up!) While it’s true that not many people read poetry, they’d probably get a lot out of it if they gave it a try. The current U.S. Poet Laureate, Californian Kay Ryan, earns all of $35,000. But fret not: Her stipend is funded from a private endowment, not tax revenues.


Dear Jeff,
I pay taxes and I read poetry.
Luv,
W

_____

My Door

I've enjoyed playing with my new camera. This image is one of several taken while sitting in my open doorway watching a thunderstorm.

thought for 8/7

Silence is the severest criticism.

-Charles Buxton, brewer and writer (1823-1871)

_____

poem by Claudia Emerson

ARTIFACT

For three years you lived in your house
just as it was before she died: your wedding
portrait on the mantel, her clothes hanging
in the closet, her hair still in the brush.
You have told me you gave it all away
then, sold the house, keeping only the confirmation
cross she wore, her name in cursive chased
on the gold underside, your ring in the same

box, those photographs you still avoid,
and the quilt you spread on your borrowed bed—
small things. Months after we met, you told me she had
made it, after we had slept already beneath its loft
and thinning, raveled pattern, as though beneath
her shadow, moving with us, that dark, that soft.

—from Late Wife

_____

thought for 8/5

The doubts of an honest man contain more moral truth than the profession of faith of people under a worldly yoke.
-Ximenes Doudan, journalist (1800-1872)

_____

just like this.....

-Albert Camus
______

thought for 8/4

If you put your ear in the right place
you can hear damn near anything.
-Theris Mortese

_____

thought for 8/2

"We must act out passion before we can feel it."
~Jean-Paul Sartre

_____

thought for 7/31

We must let go of the life we have planned, so as to accept the one that is waiting for us.
-Joseph Campbell

I first encountered this thought about two and a half years ago while working a social work position in a prison. All offenders were enrolled in a substance abuse program and each day began with a meeting where, among other things, a thought for that day was shared. I heard this at a time I really needed to hear it. I wrote it down and placed it on the wall of my office. I didn't know the great Joseph Campbell was its source at the time. I've long been a student of his. I post it here as one of my occasional doses of wisdom and to be reminded of its truth.

_____

thought for 7/27

"We choose our joys and sorrows long before we experience them."
-Kahlil Gibran

_____

Heading Home

Nothing quite like the sunset in the gentle wake of a pontoon boat on the lake. Most all things do come to an end, it's just important to remember that some endings can be beautiful.

I had a wonderful time with co-workers on a day of respite from work. Yes, there was drinking, there was swimming, there was laughter, and a Michael Jackson CD ended up in the lake.
_____

thought for 7/23

“The ultimate value of life depends upon awareness and the power of contemplation rather than upon mere survival.”
-Aristotle

love on four legs

In response to the hundreds of requests I've received for more photos of The Kitty, here you go. (Of course I haven't really received any requests, but do you think I'm going to tell The Kitty that???)

_____

thought for 7/22

It is by going down into the abyss that we recover the treasures of life. Where you stumble, there lies your treasure.
-Joseph Campbell

_____

Taking a Break

thought for 7/21

"I don't believe people are looking for the meaning of life as much as they are looking for the experience of being alive."
-Joseph Campbell

thought for 7/20

"Rudeness is the weak man's imitation of strength."
- Eric Hoffer

another by George Garrett

A Little Night Music

I go careful even now, uneasy.
Such a long time to keep and be still,
to have been quiet and even now
it is the cliché of thin ice; it is
delicate jumping from one rock to another
amid the roar and froth and foaming
of white water; it is always on tiptoes
in the echoing foyer of public places.

Such a long time ago I swallowed whole
the toad of my anger and slept with my joy
hidden like wedding cake under the pillow.
For such a long time I have loved
that beautiful princess dreaming all alone
in her tower, dangerous and perfectly silent.

This and an earlier post of a Garrett poem borrowed from Per Contra Poetry

_____

more humor

Sitting in the backseat while going through a KFC drive through recently (trust me, the back seat is where I belonged at that moment) and a companion in the front asked why a sign on the drive through window stated "Wi Fi Access Available". My response:
Because Mo Fo Access was already taken.

And you're wondering, how can he seem so intelligent but have such a stupid sense of humor?
I am full of lovely contradictions. Or, I am a fool. Period.
_____

jesus humor

Years ago, I saw "Green Stamps"

painted below a Jesus Saves sign.

Funny, enit?!

_____

poem by George Garrett

When I Consider

where I want to go from here,
now at the dead end of myself
and of all the things that I have loved
and hated, it is to the commonwealth
of true simplicity. Think then
of a stack of old bricks, of hardwood
split and ready to fit the stove.
Remember the spooky call
of the morning owl and the crows,
those kooky woodwinds of my orchestra.
Now imagine silence louder than
those birds and all our wounded cries.
Picture the kettle boiling in the kitchen.
Picture the ghostly song and dance
of flames and listen to the whisper
of smoke in the old brick chimney.
Secrets steam from the kettle spout.

_____

thought for 7/16

The thing that makes you exceptional, if you are at all, is inevitably that which must also make you lonely.
-Lorraine Hansberry, playwright and painter (1930-1965)

_____

David Huddle

It pleased me greatly to learn that author and south western Virginia native David Huddle will be the writer in residence at a nearby university this Fall.
Several years ago, a generous manager of a bookstore gave me a proof copy of La Tour Dreams of the Wolf Girl, which I enjoyed very much. I recently completed The Story of a Million Years and found it very satisfying.
I hope to find Professor Huddle cordial and open for conversation, should I find the opportunity of his company.
A mentor of mine, from my long ago life as a radio announcer (23 years ago), mentioned him to me as a local boy who went off and done good.

thought for 7/9

“Poetry is an orphan of silence. The words never quite equal the experience behind them.”

-Charles Simic

_____

hiatus

Obviously, I've not made a post in over a week. It is likely it will be thus from time to time. I managed to damage my ass this past Saturday while sliding down a waterfall. A rock I had successfully avoided on the previous trip down found my crack in perfect fashion. Rocks don't belong in your crack, especially if they are just passing through at 20 miles per hour. So this is the entertaining excuse for not posting- it hurts to sit.

poem by Charles Wright

Still Life On A Matchbox Lid

The heart is colder than the eye is.
The watchers, the holy ones,
know this, no short cut to the sky,
a single dog hair can split the wind.

If you want great tranquility,
it's hard work and a long walk.

Don't brood on the past.
The world is without appendages,
no message, no name.

_____

thought for 7/1

A good listener helps us overhear ourselves.
-Yahia Lababidi, author

_____

an important, little sermon

All of us go through some heavy shit in life. It is inevitable. It is part of being alive. When this happens, it is like you have been running along a path but something happens and you get knocked down.
At first you are shocked. Then you begin to become aware of what happened. You realize it hurts but it is hard to tell how much until another moment passes. And then another moment, and another.
You try and get up but if the hurting is bad you have to sit there and cry it out. This will likely take a while. Then you might make it part way up and somewhere in that you get angry and you bitch and moan that this happened to you.
You will say things like I was going along just fine, on pace, doing good. But when you eventually get a little less angry you will realize you weren't doing so good. You were limping a little, out of breath, and even thinking about giving up. Then you become sad about this and might even try and take on too much responsibility for getting knocked down.
You do get on your feet but you walk around in circles. This means sometimes it looks like you are going forward again and sometimes backwards. Eventually the hurting just about stops and you get tired of being sad, so you start moving up the path for real but you are really cautious.
Other things happen. Anything. You might watch a movie, get a new job, move, make a new friend, get used to being alone . . . whatever, but it means you are moving on.
In time you move up the path more quickly. The hurt is gone and you can remember how the hurting felt but if you remember too much, you will slow down. So you push.
At some point getting knocked down that time is just a memory. You might not fear it happening again so much because you got through it the last time and if you are smart, you know what to look for and even better, how to listen to yourself and not lie about what you hear.
_____

BEER ALERT

Today, while strolling through the beer section of the Taj Mahal Kroger grocery store what do I see but Highland Gaelic Ale! I don't have to go to North Carolina and get it any more! Dear brothers and sisters, this is such a lovely, dandy brew. Do try it for it will make merry your sadness and inspire you to lift your kilt!

thought for 6/25-

We all carry around so much pain in our hearts. Love and pain and beauty. They all seem to go together like one little tidy confusing package. It's a messy business, life. It's hard to figure - full of surprises. Some good. Some bad.
-Chris in the Morning from Northern Exposure

___

Braves Baseball stuff-

The Atlanta Braves made a rare television appearance last night on ESPN2, facing the Yankees in inter league play. The game was in Atlanta and sadly, the stadium seemed to have as many Yankee fans as Braves supporters. I am not a Yankee's fan. As far as I understand the salary cap in baseball is, at least in part, meant to keep the playing field level. If a team chooses to spend more than the league allowed amount on player's salaries, there are financial penalties levied. The Yanks go way over the limit, employing a very high powered roster. Money doesn't always get you the results you are after (read- Yanks are 5 games behind the Red Sox in their division) but it is expected to. I'm not a might is right kind of guy. I like the underdog. I like it when a team comes together and finds a way to win. Braves Manager, Bobby Cox says he likes this team very much. Players have commented about how they like the team chemistry. I doubt they have the offense to make a run but still, you never know in baseball, which is part of its appeal to me. In my burgeoning love of baseball, I have taken on a trait of my Great Grandfather, who would sit in his living room getting what he could through the snowy t.v. signal. There is a little bit of a gentlemanly aspect to the game and it is as much a mental game as a physical one. All of this appeals to me. Braves lost the game 8-4 but at least I got to see it.

OMG

a thought for 6/24

I'd rather see a sermon than hear one any day; I'd rather one should walk with me than merely tell the way.
-Edgar Guest, poet (1881-1959)

---

a definition of life

Life

The temptation is always to reduce it to size. A bowl of cherries. A rat race. Amino acids. Even to call it a mystery smacks of reductionism. It is the mystery.
As far as anybody seems to know, the vast majority of things in the universe do not have whatever life is. Sticks, stones, stars, space- they simply are. A few things are and are somehow aware of it. They have broken through into Something, or Something has broken through into them. Even a jellyfish, a butternut squash. They're in it with us.
After lecturing learnedly on miracles, a great theologian was asked to give a specific example of one. "There is only one miracle," He answered. "It is life."

Have you wept at anything during the past year?
Has your heart beat faster at the sight of young beauty?
Have you thought seriously about the fact that someday you are going to die?
More often than not do you really listen when people are speaking to you instead of just waiting for your turn to speak?
Is there anybody you know in whose place, if one of you had to suffer great pain, you would volunteer yourself?

If your answer to all or most of these questions is No, the chances are that you're dead.

-Frederick Buechner

words from patron philosopher:

Q: Why are you happy?
A: Because I got tired of being sad.

-Theris Mortese

_______________

a thought for 6/17-

We all have handicaps. The difference is that some of us must reveal ours, while others must conceal theirs, to be treated with mercy.
-Yahia Lababidi, author

poem by Dave McManus

Evidence

I think I told you once
About clouds and music
Floating lines and forms
and all the sounds they make

When I watch the sky
I remember those snippets
and the paragraph conversations
That pop up

and we pass that between us
like a pipe or an offering
To appease those murmmers

The quiet things I never say
That always come out
In glances and movements
prove it

GLORYMERCYPEACETRUTH

WTF?

What to imbibe...

Ah, I have not shared a worthy libation in quite some time so here is a favorite beer you must try. It will strengthen your innards and make happy your spirit!

Highland Gaelic Ale

thought for 6/16-

He who postpones the hour of living is like the rustic who waits for the river to run out before he crosses.
-Horace, poet and satirist (65-8 BCE)

What food is this?

Can you i.d. this?

If so, then you know one of the five healthiest foods in the world!

You are special.

poem by Charles Simic

The Absentee Landlord

Surely, he could make it easier
When it comes to inquiries
As to his whereabouts.
Rein in our foolish speculations,
Silence our voices raised in anger,
And not leave us alone
With that curious feeling
We sometimes have Of there being a higher purpose
To our residing here
Where nothing works
And everything needs fixing.
The least he could do is put up a sign:
AWAY ON BUSINESS
So we could see it,
In the graveyard where he collects the rent
Or in the night sky
Where we address our complaints to him.

This poem was lifted from pbs.org where there is a nice article on this former poet laureate

thought for 6/15-

"The world hasn't been the same since people started going inside to shit and outside to eat!"
-Dan W. Price 1924-1992

(Beloved Grandfather at a family picnic)

Why I'm popular at work-

Because once a week I do the following:

1) Go to the break room when several others are present.
2) Open a can of sardines or kippered snacks and dump them out on a plate.
3) Extract my quart jar of Kimchi from the office fridge with much fanfare.
4) Spoon Kimchi liberally over top of sardines or kippered snacks.
5) Eat this with much exuberance, proclaiming often the goodness of this food.
6) Watch educated folk in a professional setting be consumed by the topic of flatulence.

Instigation is fun!

one by Sherman Alexie

Grief Calls Us to the Things of This World

by Sherman Alexie
The morning air is all awash with angels . . .
- Richard Wilbur
The eyes open to a blue telephone
In the bathroom of this five-star hotel.

I wonder whom I should call? A plumber,
Proctologist, urologist, or priest?
Who is most among us and most deserves
The first call? I choose my father because
He's astounded by bathroom telephones.
I dial home. My mother answers. "Hey, Ma,
I say, "Can I talk to Poppa?" She gasps,
And then I remember that my father
Has been dead for nearly a year. "Shit, Mom,"
I say. "I forgot he’s dead. I’m sorry—
How did I forget?" "It’s okay," she says.
"I made him a cup of instant coffee
This morning and left it on the table—
Like I have for, what, twenty-seven years—
And I didn't realize my mistake
Until this afternoon." My mother laughs
At the angels who wait for us to pause
During the most ordinary of days
And sing our praise to forgetfulness
Before they slap our souls with their cold wings.
Those angels burden and unbalance us.
Those fucking angels ride us piggyback.
Those angels, forever falling, snare us
And haul us, prey and praying, into dust.

This poem was lifted from poets.org

a definition of stress:

A Poetry Reading

I participated in my first poetry reading this past Tuesday evening. A charming and new store front theatre offers up its space on the first Tuesday night of each month for folks to gather, read, and encourage, in non-competitive environs. I think the fact that nine people were present in a city of around one hundred thousand is sadly indicative of the place of poetry in our society. It is, perhaps, too little known that poets are some of the real keepers of Spirit and Truth. My observation is "Spirit" is terribly misunderstood in our culture and "Truth"- well, what t.v. loving, herd member wants to hear that shit? Anyway, I read three: two of which are on older posts here, and received pleasant affirmation. It was good for me to be nervous, as in many things involving presence with others, I'm very comfortable. I didn't get humor being found in my lead piece, and I wondered if that was because I followed a very funny reader/reading.
I'll go again. It's nice to put the poems outside myself. It is an entirely different way for me to experience my work.

thought for 6/4

Memories are interpreted like dreams.
-Leo Longanesi, journalist and editor (1905-1957)

Natasha Trethewey Reading

Click here. She is one of the better ones.

thought for 5/28

A poem...begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It is a reaching-out toward expression; an effort to find fulfillment. A complete poem is one where an emotion finds the thought and the thought finds the words.
-Robert Frost -Letter to Louis Untermeyer (January 1, 1916)

poor Bert . . .

The Poet by James Kurkup

Each instance of his life, a task, he never rests,
And works most when he appears to be doing nothing.
The least of it is putting down in words
What usually remains unwritten and unspoken,
And would so often be much better left
Unsaid, for it is really the unspeakable
That he must try to give an ordinary tongue to.

And if, by art or accident,
He utters the unutterable, then
It must appear as natural as a breath,
Yet be an inspiration. And he must go,
The lonelier for his unwanted miracle,
His singular way, a gentle lunatic at large
In the societies of cross and reasonable men.

Dragon's Tooth

This past Saturday gifted me with an occasion to hike a piece of the Appalachian Trail I've long wanted to tread. Dragon's Tooth is a challenging path, especially so with a through hiker's pack, which I did not have. My companions were delightful, especially with the talk about good foods. The top offered its view, a soothing strong breeze, and the best damn peanut butter sandwich I've ever had. (Ever notice how sandwiches are so much better when someone else makes them?) It was living in the Now in a pure form, and I reveled in it.

thought for 5/21

"Show me a man who lives alone and has a perpetually clean kitchen, and 8 times out of 9 I'll show you a man with detestable spiritual qualities.”
-Charles Bukowski

more Bukowski

I finished watching Bukowski: Born into This yesterday morning. If you have read him then it will be greatly beneficial to see this.

sappy adoration of my cat

"There are two means of refuge from the miseries of life: music and cats."
- Albert Schweitzer

"You can't help that. We're all mad here."
-The Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland

"Some have no regard for cats. I find them the most suitable companion for a comtemplative life. Every writer should have one. Several, if he is also mad."
-Theris Mortese

Levitating, hypnotic mouse

"Yes, she sleeps where ever she wants, why?"

"I'd cook but the cat is using the stove."

Sarcasm Support Group

thought for 5/18

"Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned."
-Siddhartha Buddha

"Burn baby burn! - Disco Inferno! Burn baby burn, burn that mother down . . ."
-The Trammps, 1976

baseball bitch

I used to listen to the Braves on WSB out of Atlanta, old school style- on a transistor radio with the signal sometimes fading but at least I could follow the game. I could also watch games with some frequency because TBS broadcast most of them. During my 14 no t.v. years (still hate the damn things) I'd go to someones house and watch a big game. Now there is no a.m. station with sufficient signal carrying the games to me and t.v. games are sporadic. I looked into satellite radio but I think it is expensive and the model of radio I'd choose gets poor reviews. I really am fading steadily, technologically speaking. How I'd like to hear the games, the concentrated and pleasant distraction that they are. Now that I have written this it occurs to me, who cares? I should just shut up and pony up the money if I want to hear the game. Thanks anyway, for listening.