tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67482618101478115142024-02-19T06:42:34.094-08:00Poetry WalksUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger227125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6748261810147811514.post-65492831411404383232013-07-21T00:14:00.000-07:002013-07-21T00:14:00.535-07:00Who Is a Poet ... by Rozewicz<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi71saaVlrJvupAUi0Rz85DEMzCe6Nt-8maKMsVjhjXyuNur0Sl06QIICS9dh8NYkJ-Xgu_KcMhNSM2FnslJ12UnsqLa5XTX4J6XAu-2nYIm3KCPlIegkOmXSypdDFKN75LvEM2CnN3ijk/s1600/charro.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi71saaVlrJvupAUi0Rz85DEMzCe6Nt-8maKMsVjhjXyuNur0Sl06QIICS9dh8NYkJ-Xgu_KcMhNSM2FnslJ12UnsqLa5XTX4J6XAu-2nYIm3KCPlIegkOmXSypdDFKN75LvEM2CnN3ijk/s320/charro.jpg" /></a></div><br />
a poet is one who writes verses<br />
and one who does not write verses<br />
<br />
a poet is one who throws off fetters<br />
and one who puts fetters on himself<br />
<br />
a poet is one who believes<br />
and one who cannot bring himself to believe<br />
<br />
a poet is one who has told lies<br />
and one who has been told lies<br />
<br />
one who has been inclined to fall<br />
and one who raises himself<br />
<br />
a poet is one who tries to leave<br />
and one who cannot leave<br />
<br />
<br />
- <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tadeusz_Rozewicz">Tadeusz Rozewicz</a> (1921-)<br />
<br />
translated by Magnus Jan Krynski and Robert A. Maguire<br />
<br />
Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6748261810147811514.post-13391201416104558052013-07-20T23:58:00.000-07:002013-07-20T23:58:12.280-07:00Poem with a Tail ... by Kanik<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht2qaNlt3rfJSApfjWiCuxMArtauRimEdZVk6DsWzcd9PYmFulQgSRlfIzUeCfyzia_GqYBXiZwsl0y8jxK3UyD9fXxYXhayav_4znDRGZz0USQanm_Cw823PkGmYvhFkWKtsWy9W1L_k/s1600/blackCat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht2qaNlt3rfJSApfjWiCuxMArtauRimEdZVk6DsWzcd9PYmFulQgSRlfIzUeCfyzia_GqYBXiZwsl0y8jxK3UyD9fXxYXhayav_4znDRGZz0USQanm_Cw823PkGmYvhFkWKtsWy9W1L_k/s320/blackCat.jpg" /></a></div><br />
We can't be seen together. Our paths are separate.<br />
You belong to the butcher, I am an alley cat.<br />
You eat from a nickeled plate.<br />
I eat from the lion's mouth.<br />
You dream of love. I dream of bones.<br />
<br />
But your path isn't easy either, pal,<br />
Not easy<br />
To wag a tail every godforsaken day.<br />
<br />
<br />
- <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orhan_Veli_Kanik">Orhan Veli Kanik</a> (1914-1950)<br />
<br />
translated by Murat Nemet-NejatUnknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6748261810147811514.post-14801265466214812192013-07-20T23:27:00.000-07:002013-07-20T23:27:37.798-07:00Nothing More ... by Neruda<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj26vr9Q7An2Y1HpIChezVzVINLf1w8EP8noHdCrmiEaq78TXIEzAsZBWo-B2jEpo-6nb_LJGtDRs7P8bJg0rlp2RKaV8Y8Vl2n7ZY8En7pdRwHINJgLmWN4ip-eTi573Hz29vL6GtJTYo/s1600/El+Greco+-+Allegory+of+the+Camaldolite+Order+1597.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj26vr9Q7An2Y1HpIChezVzVINLf1w8EP8noHdCrmiEaq78TXIEzAsZBWo-B2jEpo-6nb_LJGtDRs7P8bJg0rlp2RKaV8Y8Vl2n7ZY8En7pdRwHINJgLmWN4ip-eTi573Hz29vL6GtJTYo/s320/El+Greco+-+Allegory+of+the+Camaldolite+Order+1597.jpg" /></a></div><br />
I made my contract with the truth<br />
to restore light to the earth.<br />
<br />
I wished to be like bread.<br />
The struggle never found me wanting.<br />
<br />
But here I am with what I loved,<br />
with the solitude I lost.<br />
In the shadow of the stone, I do not rest.<br />
<br />
The sea is working, working in my silence.<br />
<br />
<br />
- <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pablo_neruda">Pablo Neruda</a> (1904-1973)<br />
<br />
translated by Alastair Reid<br />
<br />
Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6748261810147811514.post-25680774527924788682013-07-20T23:19:00.000-07:002013-07-20T23:19:23.409-07:00The Human Species ... by Queneau<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd8lz8a6V5WDe3NIrzhcpU72jn8KezJEnNiiwVNonPJkLcN-jO6I9glcQrFe1TWWTjQRVd6qLbeaE6hF_aszbdNzB47M69vTBTeRoB7NAd4iIPCOnLwnJfnG0W-gIOB4w7Sd8ec_bds6I/s1600/Dali+Salvador+-+Barcelona+Mannequin+1927.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd8lz8a6V5WDe3NIrzhcpU72jn8KezJEnNiiwVNonPJkLcN-jO6I9glcQrFe1TWWTjQRVd6qLbeaE6hF_aszbdNzB47M69vTBTeRoB7NAd4iIPCOnLwnJfnG0W-gIOB4w7Sd8ec_bds6I/s320/Dali+Salvador+-+Barcelona+Mannequin+1927.jpg" /></a></div><br />
The human species has given me<br />
the right to be mortal<br />
the duty to be civilized<br />
a conscience<br />
2 eyes that don't always function very well<br />
a nose in the middle of my face<br />
2 feet 2 hands<br />
speech<br />
<br />
the human species has given me <br />
my father and mother<br />
some brothers maybe who knows<br />
a whole mess of cousins<br />
and some great-grandfathers<br />
<br />
the human species has given me<br />
its 3 faculties<br />
feeling intellect and will<br />
each in moderation<br />
32 teeth and 10 fingers a liver<br />
a heart and some other viscera<br />
<br />
the human species has given me<br />
what I'm supposed to be satisfied with<br />
<br />
<br />
- <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Raymond_Queneau">Raymond Queneau</a> (1903-1976)<br />
<br />
Translated by Michael Benedikt Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6748261810147811514.post-7067940750479758542013-05-31T15:31:00.001-07:002013-07-20T23:10:07.974-07:00"What History Fails to Mention is" ... by Synder<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4lqd4pVzCAP69GyxxOHcOTZtUn_lmTNajv3fafggT2Jmx5Y2UvFMoFeCExIlZ371ibDJiA0DSXfu6pkDK03abWbaaRtbtbwNLkqtQHSLIOBQk1UTNFSNsIPRONtEosYcK358FL2luu_Y/s1600/Manet,+Edouard+-+The+Fifer.+1866.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4lqd4pVzCAP69GyxxOHcOTZtUn_lmTNajv3fafggT2Jmx5Y2UvFMoFeCExIlZ371ibDJiA0DSXfu6pkDK03abWbaaRtbtbwNLkqtQHSLIOBQk1UTNFSNsIPRONtEosYcK358FL2luu_Y/s320/Manet,+Edouard+-+The+Fifer.+1866.JPG" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
What history fails to mention is<br />
<br />
Most everybody lived their lives<br />
With friends and children, played it cool,<br />
Left truth & beauty to the guys<br />
Who tricked for bigshots, and were fools.<br />
<br />
<br />
- <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gary_snyder">Gary Synder</a> (1930-)<br />
<br />
from <i>Left Out in the Rain (1986)</i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6748261810147811514.post-24562691361716212502013-05-29T00:09:00.000-07:002013-05-29T00:10:58.360-07:00The Shepard XXX ... by Pessoa <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVp2ZxVMongRv9xZJZjr33KCrc-5O2CYFsQln_kyki9dywa8W1LNcULABEfefN0UjeZxDgaiutBryVqm7kh7uiyiKOlIHld-BAx309T7kh9LBYvy2ZweIbOtBW5gteIh-y7NsCLXu9ONk/s1600/Renoir.+Young+Man+Walking+with+Dogs+in+Fontainebleau+Forest.+1866..jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVp2ZxVMongRv9xZJZjr33KCrc-5O2CYFsQln_kyki9dywa8W1LNcULABEfefN0UjeZxDgaiutBryVqm7kh7uiyiKOlIHld-BAx309T7kh9LBYvy2ZweIbOtBW5gteIh-y7NsCLXu9ONk/s320/Renoir.+Young+Man+Walking+with+Dogs+in+Fontainebleau+Forest.+1866..jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
If they want me to be a mystic, fine. So I'm a mystic.<br />
I'm a mystic, but only of the body.<br />
My soul is simple; it doesn't think.<br />
<br />
My mysticism consists in not desiring to know,<br />
In living without thinking about it.<br />
<br />
I don't know what Nature is; I sing it.<br />
I live on a hilltop<br />
In a solitary cabin.<br />
And that's what it's all about.<br />
<br />
<br />
- <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fernando_pessoa">Fernando Pessoa</a> (1888-1935)<br />
<br />
<i>translated by Edwin Honig</i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6748261810147811514.post-56249439591932708962013-05-28T23:02:00.000-07:002013-05-28T23:02:33.922-07:00Poet's Work ... by Niedecker<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdNr3vTwX85v8No-5DkwWFI6DnKlJoP20E5mjkqok9molFzXhO2ptdhzlTb8tgik17pImq-RUthNuwFWX46s0Ly_hyphenhyphenTU-8sY3R52HHAcitgeBEvxC9Du8cQUP5EwzxmR0rUfqfvwo3PDM/s1600/Pasto+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdNr3vTwX85v8No-5DkwWFI6DnKlJoP20E5mjkqok9molFzXhO2ptdhzlTb8tgik17pImq-RUthNuwFWX46s0Ly_hyphenhyphenTU-8sY3R52HHAcitgeBEvxC9Du8cQUP5EwzxmR0rUfqfvwo3PDM/s320/Pasto+3.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
Grandfather<br />
advised me:<br />
Learn a trade<br />
<br />
I learned<br />
to sit at desk<br />
and condense<br />
<br />
No layoff<br />
from this<br />
condensery<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
- <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lorine_Niedecker">Lorine Niedecker</a> (1903-1970)Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6748261810147811514.post-17634369297938987552013-05-28T22:55:00.000-07:002013-05-28T22:55:38.290-07:00The Advantages of Learning ... by Rexroth<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6C7Vry6x4ZJk2w1-cLAjfhwiCeBxmfAvqsxDPDknLNaFLX4y3HjJRgsLXZiFPKu9C-wMpuCVHSDSszS7gQcc79auHFqJ7QP94DbmLVtbCVav_kWA4bGRGZ4z7liy0K1BOYavNW5CzNV0/s1600/yojimbo.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6C7Vry6x4ZJk2w1-cLAjfhwiCeBxmfAvqsxDPDknLNaFLX4y3HjJRgsLXZiFPKu9C-wMpuCVHSDSszS7gQcc79auHFqJ7QP94DbmLVtbCVav_kWA4bGRGZ4z7liy0K1BOYavNW5CzNV0/s320/yojimbo.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
I am a man with no ambitions<br />
And few friends, wholly incapable<br />
Of making a living, growing no<br />
Younger, fugitive from some just doom.<br />
Lonely, ill-clothed, what does it matter?<br />
At midnight I make myself a jug<br />
Of hot white wine and cardamon seeds.<br />
In a torn grey robe and old beret,<br />
I sit in the cold writing poems,<br />
Drawing nudes on the crooked margins,<br />
Copulating with sixteen year old<br />
Nymphomaniacs of my imagination.<br />
<br />
<br />
- <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kenneth_Rexroth">Kenneth Rexroth</a> (1905-1982)<br />
<br />
from <i>The Phoenix and the Tortoise (1944)</i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6748261810147811514.post-33251704940688487932013-04-24T02:38:00.000-07:002013-04-24T02:38:22.993-07:00Make Strong Old Dreams Lest Our World Lose Heart ... by Pound<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA_A9ckxVjnv-RfScvlkxZs8ZacTvQmPQnJThaogxy0GGlXVIzU3e9JJvD97SIqfFUbqs6b12W8efI1xv-DLMf0tZYHAnc_1CSqjghzsc77RRPPlKBstHtYReTkZQccrPRL6ZhZeLmnjc/s1600/Dali+-+Study+for+Sentimental+Colloquy.+1944.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA_A9ckxVjnv-RfScvlkxZs8ZacTvQmPQnJThaogxy0GGlXVIzU3e9JJvD97SIqfFUbqs6b12W8efI1xv-DLMf0tZYHAnc_1CSqjghzsc77RRPPlKBstHtYReTkZQccrPRL6ZhZeLmnjc/s320/Dali+-+Study+for+Sentimental+Colloquy.+1944.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
<i>Make strong old dreams lest this our world lose heart</i><br />
<br />
For man is a skin full of wine<br />
But his soul is a hole full of God<br />
And the song of all time blows through him<br />
As winds through a knot-holed board.<br />
<br />
Though man be a skin full of wine<br />
Yet his heart is a little child<br />
That croucheth low beneath the wind<br />
When the God-storm battereth wild.<br />
<br />
<br />
- <a href="http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/161">Ezra Pound</a> (1885-1972)<br />
from <i>A Lume Spento (1908)</i><br />
<br />
Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6748261810147811514.post-8161398601079139552013-04-10T04:05:00.002-07:002013-04-10T04:07:01.316-07:00Body, Remember ... by Cavafy<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv3uKIhrCNzurbE7SBsN0U8M96FipSy1D7Ia5z179ofgEhNC0zKkfTHlEaqtogfqQ53rPIsIJu52TqX9AOGTQtN2E2GX37P_f5JtySpiepIdNfdo0cQfef6OUSze-HdCXqd-CJI_PX6nc/s1600/Ingres,Jean-Auguste-Dominique+-+Jupiter+and+Thetis.+1811.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv3uKIhrCNzurbE7SBsN0U8M96FipSy1D7Ia5z179ofgEhNC0zKkfTHlEaqtogfqQ53rPIsIJu52TqX9AOGTQtN2E2GX37P_f5JtySpiepIdNfdo0cQfef6OUSze-HdCXqd-CJI_PX6nc/s320/Ingres,Jean-Auguste-Dominique+-+Jupiter+and+Thetis.+1811.JPG" /></a><br />
<br />
Body, remember not only how much you were loved,<br />
not only the beds you lay on,<br />
but also those desires that glowed openly<br />
in the eyes that looked at you,<br />
trembled for you in the voices--<br />
only some chance obstacle frustrated them.<br />
Now that it's finally in the past,<br />
it seems almost as if you gave yourself<br />
to those desires too--how they glowed,<br />
remember, in the eyes that looked at you,<br />
remember, body, how they trembled for you <br />
in those voices.<br />
<br />
<br />
- <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Constantine_P._Cavafy">Constantine P. Cavafy</a> (1863-1933)<br />
<br />
<i>translated by Edmund Keeley & Philip Sherrard</i><br />
Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6748261810147811514.post-35621403717093903922013-04-08T17:42:00.000-07:002013-04-08T17:42:11.245-07:00The Eye ... by Creeley<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4RrslrlKyolGWJLJo5quRC8z5GytNQKmuC7AWsfHcuVj-BzHkofcZTUYGQotbcWIUDFijfLIOJLm9t6PQyJA_rNK5dTjxadQgZUfGioYaThGVdsT5Bp3KpJ7LfSuLBORGEKOjVbkO2TA/s1600/Dali+Salvador+-+Sense+of+Speed+1931.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4RrslrlKyolGWJLJo5quRC8z5GytNQKmuC7AWsfHcuVj-BzHkofcZTUYGQotbcWIUDFijfLIOJLm9t6PQyJA_rNK5dTjxadQgZUfGioYaThGVdsT5Bp3KpJ7LfSuLBORGEKOjVbkO2TA/s320/Dali+Salvador+-+Sense+of+Speed+1931.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
Moon<br />
and clouds, will<br />
we drift<br />
<br />
higher<br />
than that we<br />
look at,<br />
<br />
moon's and<br />
mind's<br />
eye.<br />
<br />
<br />
- <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Creeley">Robert Creeley</a> (1926-2005)<br />
from <i>Selected Poems (1976)</i> Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6748261810147811514.post-39986838362403991342013-04-08T17:32:00.000-07:002013-04-08T17:32:15.111-07:00Backwards ... by Creeley<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY9thBh5Zox9uG90qP69ZN_Sm_qOE_wLXdt09bxW5gH8VTJ7Xvq-ef0aoVfk_BD1h2X-iUv_JQSSCock8ivZlMXVYGaQaGlR1x5c8LeTIT7ljV8LHj4QdFQC5e-qv2Z2F-6nnqRyx7i5I/s1600/TomaszWiech9.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY9thBh5Zox9uG90qP69ZN_Sm_qOE_wLXdt09bxW5gH8VTJ7Xvq-ef0aoVfk_BD1h2X-iUv_JQSSCock8ivZlMXVYGaQaGlR1x5c8LeTIT7ljV8LHj4QdFQC5e-qv2Z2F-6nnqRyx7i5I/s320/TomaszWiech9.JPG" /></a><br />
<br />
Nowhere before you<br />
any of this.<br />
<br />
<br />
- <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Creeley">Robert Creeley</a> (1926-2005)<br />
<br />
from <i>Selected Poems 1976</i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6748261810147811514.post-12264035733821774752013-03-30T11:41:00.000-07:002013-03-30T11:41:37.831-07:00Euripides the Athenian ... by Seferis<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj40Ws7EPG5Mucn_IMbG35KzBp2seJyN5d31Jwe6UG4WfVfiDxj3Dioa8c_yhLgD1GuDnKGrYGOz2akPoJmpfnTszSzyvv-FN2b250vVIWfLICYeulOV35tyL9HIfG6uEz2ys6-dAZ-HI0/s1600/Euripides.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj40Ws7EPG5Mucn_IMbG35KzBp2seJyN5d31Jwe6UG4WfVfiDxj3Dioa8c_yhLgD1GuDnKGrYGOz2akPoJmpfnTszSzyvv-FN2b250vVIWfLICYeulOV35tyL9HIfG6uEz2ys6-dAZ-HI0/s320/Euripides.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
He grew old between the fires of Troy<br />
and the quarries of Sicily.<br />
<br />
He liked sea-shore caves and pictures of the sea.<br />
He saw the veins of men<br />
as a net the gods made to catch us in like wild beasts:<br />
he tried to break through it.<br />
He was a sour man, his friends were few;<br />
when his time came he was torn to pieces by dogs.<br />
<br />
<br />
- <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/George_Seferis">George Seferis</a> (1900-1971)<br />
<br />
<i>Translated by Edmund Keely & Philip Sherrard</i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6748261810147811514.post-10002671621593702322013-03-30T11:33:00.000-07:002013-03-30T11:33:02.360-07:00Ultimate Reality ... by Lawrence<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKhG4EwaS9R9TTuwWRSR1-zD20GFadIXMfJxxUBh0WidXfDjIcCltgonNw7ZnZQRFlYvz0M8HAR559sVXhXBE_G67fA0V2V3syRGO1MMnA29mbtMb4bAAnW3R6ayUXIVBYEhAQV2fglvc/s1600/Dali+Salvador+-+Barcelona+Mannequin+1927.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKhG4EwaS9R9TTuwWRSR1-zD20GFadIXMfJxxUBh0WidXfDjIcCltgonNw7ZnZQRFlYvz0M8HAR559sVXhXBE_G67fA0V2V3syRGO1MMnA29mbtMb4bAAnW3R6ayUXIVBYEhAQV2fglvc/s320/Dali+Salvador+-+Barcelona+Mannequin+1927.jpg" /></a><br />
A young man said to me:<br />
I am interested in the problem of Reality.<br />
<br />
I said: Really!<br />
Then I saw him turn to glance, surreptitiously,<br />
in the big mirror, at his own fascinating shadow.<br />
<br />
<br />
- <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/D.H._Lawrence">D.H. Lawrence</a> (1885-1930)Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6748261810147811514.post-44992620681193737162013-03-04T19:46:00.000-08:002013-03-30T11:43:31.539-07:00A Theological Definition ... by Oppen<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh81UFYPcUPNEIQntV64Qk2CAjyD166VkjUAqLqkkn_uMI1OZnsLujUCtrlIEnznHhcW5kM3s39Iz2qWozuf_rYw1hpwly0seC7v1XHL877OUTmXqjxNCvzFiRYKihVgWprfewLqJCt3Yg/s1600/Dali+Salvador+-+Figure+at+a+Window+1925.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh81UFYPcUPNEIQntV64Qk2CAjyD166VkjUAqLqkkn_uMI1OZnsLujUCtrlIEnznHhcW5kM3s39Iz2qWozuf_rYw1hpwly0seC7v1XHL877OUTmXqjxNCvzFiRYKihVgWprfewLqJCt3Yg/s320/Dali+Salvador+-+Figure+at+a+Window+1925.JPG" /></a><br />
<br />
A small room, the varnished floor<br />
Making an L around the bed,<br />
<br />
What is or is true as<br />
Happiness <br />
<br />
Windows opening on the sea,<br />
The green painted railings of the balcony<br />
Against the rock, the bushes and the sea running<br />
<b><br />
<br />
- <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/George_Oppen">George Oppen</a> (1908-1984)</b><br />
<br />
from <i>Of Being Numerous</i> (1967)Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6748261810147811514.post-25275541000281364992013-03-04T19:38:00.000-08:002013-03-30T11:44:17.899-07:00The Night has a Thousand Eyes ... by Bourdillon<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgehELrMMsSWZY-gJo97vXnCkGcal8hZg2JPef4kSpMZ5DiEPtAivVz-yVeTnTifQQdrqkNQ1l-BOBX2n7LeldjibjIJ7_Ip-p3LdxAD61YTDZ33g6kxeBodfwx2DmVTGpvJHwt8zzI7UE/s1600/Tomasz+Wiech+4.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgehELrMMsSWZY-gJo97vXnCkGcal8hZg2JPef4kSpMZ5DiEPtAivVz-yVeTnTifQQdrqkNQ1l-BOBX2n7LeldjibjIJ7_Ip-p3LdxAD61YTDZ33g6kxeBodfwx2DmVTGpvJHwt8zzI7UE/s320/Tomasz+Wiech+4.JPG" /></a><br />
<br />
The night has a thousand eyes,<br />
And the day but one;<br />
Yet the light of the bright world dies<br />
With the dying sun.<br />
<br />
The mind has a thousand eyes,<br />
And the heart but one;<br />
Yet the light of a whole life dies<br />
When love is done.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
- <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Francis_William_Bourdillon">Francis William Bourdillon</a> (1852-1921)Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6748261810147811514.post-35320825746048596382013-02-19T17:39:00.000-08:002013-02-19T17:39:26.918-08:00Tiresias Drinking ... by Clayton Eshleman <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbIoBMQ5T7w2P1Y4r61EGwSyIvENN6tgh6ubkrno2T9qb8p-hlA790QEP4k58TlfiCUWN8DH0J-cHksWoxtGcb0Save4u29N91vd9vGnkIIO8AsH16163XnxfY48uPop_cMU2zKmIEbgM/s1600/Johann_Heinrich_F%C3%BCssli+-+-Tiresias+Drinking.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbIoBMQ5T7w2P1Y4r61EGwSyIvENN6tgh6ubkrno2T9qb8p-hlA790QEP4k58TlfiCUWN8DH0J-cHksWoxtGcb0Save4u29N91vd9vGnkIIO8AsH16163XnxfY48uPop_cMU2zKmIEbgM/s320/Johann_Heinrich_F%C3%BCssli+-+-Tiresias+Drinking.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
on his hands in Hades, head into Odysseus's <br />
ewe-blood filled trench, saw through<br />
Hades, as if "down" into an earlier prophecy:<br />
<br />
as Pangaea separated into Laurasia and Gondwanaland,<br />
so were creatures to separate into animals and men.<br />
Would the separation continuum end when men<br />
<br />
extracted language from the beasts?<br />
As Tiresias drank animal blood to be able to speak<br />
in Hades, so in an earlier abyss did<br />
<br />
hominids, becoming men, swallow skulls of blood<br />
that animal sounds might dream in them,<br />
and take on the shapes of men? Tiresias saw<br />
<br />
that the etymology of magic was in maggots,<br />
each in syllable rags, wending their way<br />
out a bison belly's imploded cavern,<br />
<br />
that the prophet's task is to conduct<br />
the savagery of the grass, to register<br />
the zeros rising from the circuits of the dead<br />
<br />
in suspension below, mouths forever frozen at<br />
the roller coaster's summit in wild hello.<br />
<br />
<br />
- Clayton Eshleman (1935-)<br />
<br />
from <i>Fracture</i> (1983)Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6748261810147811514.post-47374815867647963822013-02-19T15:41:00.001-08:002013-02-19T15:41:47.979-08:00Be Angry at the Sun ... by Robinson Jeffers<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmSxrz09mElhyyw4kRO3k8HAOjs4RDJLZQTAFM40ZVTwrJMEgsiOV_becHdwXfVkkk8sDYqPfETrVrTpsuhQrL6Its8EE7yhfbKrUwsx8cyCOSZnTj2aT9cxkrM8IHdTvfxAABzXSDekk/s1600/jeffers-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmSxrz09mElhyyw4kRO3k8HAOjs4RDJLZQTAFM40ZVTwrJMEgsiOV_becHdwXfVkkk8sDYqPfETrVrTpsuhQrL6Its8EE7yhfbKrUwsx8cyCOSZnTj2aT9cxkrM8IHdTvfxAABzXSDekk/s320/jeffers-1.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
That public men publish falsehoods<br />
Is nothing new. That America must accept<br />
Like the historical republics corruption and empire<br />
Has been known for years.<br />
<br />
Be angry at the sun for setting<br />
<br />
If these things anger you. Watch the wheel slope<br />
and turn,<br />
They are all bound on the wheel, these people,<br />
those warriors,<br />
This republic, Europe, Asia.<br />
<br />
Observe them gesticulating,<br />
Observe them going down. The gang serves lies,<br />
the passionate<br />
Man plays his part; the cold passion for truth<br />
Hunts in no pack.<br />
<br />
You are not Catullus, you know,<br />
To lampoon these crude sketches of Caesar. You<br />
are far<br />
From Dante's feet, but even farther from his dirty<br />
Political hatreds.<br />
<br />
Let boys want pleasure, and men<br />
Struggle for power, and women perhaps for fame,<br />
And the servile to serve a Leader and the dupes<br />
to be duped.<br />
Yours is not theirs.<br />
<br />
- Robinson Jeffers (1886-1962)<br />
<br />
Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6748261810147811514.post-15641972454166522182013-02-19T15:23:00.000-08:002013-02-19T15:25:21.757-08:00The Bloody Sire ... by Robinson Jeffers<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyYtQCRx7raTnFFCabIr_chvenos6DQgsHSJ0rACiXnpzhJXOV61cXK0l_q0P_SlNYLXyi5IdbQtZfMnoOGrHcNro5ElQD39Eb2CHsXJU2Cmot4p_scTQq6IkePPdTn-DKMx8tDgN_RVs/s1600/Gagarin,Grigory++-+Trick+Riding+of+Curds+and+Tatars+in+front+of+the+Fortress+Sardar-Abbat+in+Armenia+1840.JPG" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyYtQCRx7raTnFFCabIr_chvenos6DQgsHSJ0rACiXnpzhJXOV61cXK0l_q0P_SlNYLXyi5IdbQtZfMnoOGrHcNro5ElQD39Eb2CHsXJU2Cmot4p_scTQq6IkePPdTn-DKMx8tDgN_RVs/s320/Gagarin,Grigory++-+Trick+Riding+of+Curds+and+Tatars+in+front+of+the+Fortress+Sardar-Abbat+in+Armenia+1840.JPG" /></a><br />
<br />
It is not bad. Let them play.<br />
Let the guns bark and the bombing-plane<br />
Speak his prodigious blasphemies.<br />
It is not bad, it is high time,<br />
Stark violence is still the sire of all the world's values.<br />
<br />
What but the wolf's tooth whittled so fine<br />
The fleet limbs of the antelope?<br />
What but fear winged the birds, and hunger<br />
Jeweled with such eyes the great goshawk's head?<br />
Stark violence has been the sire of all the world's values.<br />
<br />
Who would remember Helen's face<br />
Lacking the terrible halo of spears?<br />
Who formed Christ but Herod and Caesar,<br />
The cruel and bloody victories of Caesar?<br />
Violence, the bloody sire of all the world's values.<br />
<br />
Never weep, let them play,<br />
Old violence is not too old to beget new values.<br />
<br />
<br />
- Robinson Jeffers (1887-1962)<br />
<br />
from <i>Be Angry at the Sun</i> (1941) <br />
Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6748261810147811514.post-35399569906354457342013-01-31T04:46:00.000-08:002013-01-31T04:46:18.291-08:00Teaching the Ape to Write Poems ...by James Tate<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgn0SLnM3En0a_g3R7AbSvtIVpFGKw0eIv_IWa-YoFkL4XSk3FXMDIsDS-obymTymmgTmFKPifNJpVvKw1IBHTug1wDml3MGP4NltVOelwsOjR4vBIM_mRro2idTa9KyfgPohYBmKzKOc/s1600/Monkey-typing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="229" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgn0SLnM3En0a_g3R7AbSvtIVpFGKw0eIv_IWa-YoFkL4XSk3FXMDIsDS-obymTymmgTmFKPifNJpVvKw1IBHTug1wDml3MGP4NltVOelwsOjR4vBIM_mRro2idTa9KyfgPohYBmKzKOc/s320/Monkey-typing.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<br />
They didn't have much trouble<br />
teaching the ape to write poems:<br />
first they strapped him into the chair,<br />
then tied the pencil around his hand<br />
(the paper had already been nailed down).<br />
Then Dr. Bluespire leaned over his shoulder<br />
and whispered into his ear:<br />
"You look like a god sitting there.<br />
Why don't you try writing something?"<br />
<br />
<br />
- James Tate (b.1943)Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6748261810147811514.post-54887387371639243532013-01-30T17:26:00.000-08:002013-01-30T17:26:38.394-08:00Curiously Young Like a Freshly-Dug Grave ... by Richard Brautigan<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzxU5ia2IPoH8w46vODA0bDByA-F5uGwdNkssvDQ8toJl0vjAOEagW7nJuMGGj4kY0gNYFAHoQdp2zCS0XnrBSu751jvmz56jPDBeSYF2yp8hH0zzZ1ChVxDbctCmkRTlqtdQmsi1pZ4E/s1600/spiral+galaxy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzxU5ia2IPoH8w46vODA0bDByA-F5uGwdNkssvDQ8toJl0vjAOEagW7nJuMGGj4kY0gNYFAHoQdp2zCS0XnrBSu751jvmz56jPDBeSYF2yp8hH0zzZ1ChVxDbctCmkRTlqtdQmsi1pZ4E/s320/spiral+galaxy.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<br />
Curiously young like a freshly-dug grave<br />
the day parades in circles like a top<br />
with rain falling in its shadow.<br />
<br />
<br />
- Richard Brautigan (1935 -1984)Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6748261810147811514.post-555711156215558992013-01-30T17:19:00.000-08:002013-01-30T17:19:26.584-08:00The Reader ...by Janet Lewis<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDJA4JnyO5mWRIa6Gg3Qzc8y0qvCU_jTJrFMv0rjEWEiw3Zf6Q008GbmBEuI_BLUgOpIT1Z4QtYmPXAMSuJcGsoN5UgA85-XYcnMe3aLObx6RGM87E4LM9ny2XoCN7AoeVtBTSM2OG-pE/s1600/rodan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDJA4JnyO5mWRIa6Gg3Qzc8y0qvCU_jTJrFMv0rjEWEiw3Zf6Q008GbmBEuI_BLUgOpIT1Z4QtYmPXAMSuJcGsoN5UgA85-XYcnMe3aLObx6RGM87E4LM9ny2XoCN7AoeVtBTSM2OG-pE/s320/rodan.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<br />
Sun creep under the eaves,<br />
And shines on the bare floor<br />
While he forgets the earth.<br />
<br />
Cool ashes on the hearth,<br />
And all so still save for<br />
The soft turning of leaves.<br />
<br />
A creature fresh from birth<br />
Clings to the screen door,<br />
Heaving damp heavy wings.<br />
<br />
<br />
- Janet Lewis (1899-1998)Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6748261810147811514.post-29981675945145904182013-01-30T17:12:00.000-08:002013-01-30T17:12:57.793-08:00Song ...by Ezra Pound<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyDvvtCUKg8HldwglRsFhAc6_xoBbfSoO7ZLnhfKRcUFKHBixaxc2EzT_4lxVIfTStdWqJujy0eWAv0qmiaNRrJvAhRZcwwoM_oDu8uFP9fJMo33uuhTL1Q1i0deBkxDjZ4Ybc0SSaIuY/s1600/EzraPound+1906.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyDvvtCUKg8HldwglRsFhAc6_xoBbfSoO7ZLnhfKRcUFKHBixaxc2EzT_4lxVIfTStdWqJujy0eWAv0qmiaNRrJvAhRZcwwoM_oDu8uFP9fJMo33uuhTL1Q1i0deBkxDjZ4Ybc0SSaIuY/s320/EzraPound+1906.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<br />
Love thou thy dream<br />
All base love scorning,<br />
Love thou the wind<br />
And here take warning<br />
That dreams alone can truly be,<br />
For 'tis in dream I come to thee.<br />
<br />
<br />
- Ezra Pound (1885-1972)<br />
<br />
(A Lume Spento 1908)Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6748261810147811514.post-8005193407943431462012-12-27T20:27:00.000-08:002012-12-27T20:27:28.963-08:00the Best Thing in the World <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9klBOuG-9ZL4n18aiV6nWbjYj-qRIgLKUgh7gJLqbXfmOTo_X24cbR8j7yso5eKxNDTTDRun9kT8AurcuzACUMqjaBmZJZdZsX846ooShTc0g7AIJtG4g8e6c55DoeC7sswvXniZ2T_E/s1600/mysticmountain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="240" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9klBOuG-9ZL4n18aiV6nWbjYj-qRIgLKUgh7gJLqbXfmOTo_X24cbR8j7yso5eKxNDTTDRun9kT8AurcuzACUMqjaBmZJZdZsX846ooShTc0g7AIJtG4g8e6c55DoeC7sswvXniZ2T_E/s320/mysticmountain.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<br />
What's the best thing in the world?<br />
June-rose, by May-dew impearled;<br />
Sweet south-wind, that means no rain;<br />
Truth, not cruel to a friend;<br />
Pleasure, not in haste to end;<br />
Beauty, not self-decked and curled<br />
Till its pride is over-plain;<br />
Love, when, so, you're loved again.<br />
What's the best thing in the world?<br />
-- Something out of it, I think.<br />
<br />
<br />
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-1861)<br />
Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6748261810147811514.post-53620921073831720512012-12-27T20:23:00.002-08:002012-12-27T20:23:33.419-08:00Revolutionary Letter #2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihj9HOzmtIToLoLdcNGu2r6400szE9hTBD5umMvKP7Y3kaNZiW_wtvaky3wPf4I-wdLTzRpXNjT5webXyNYqhSJ5RgSgfUJFjdo-OTfenqWlUP-o6V79Bhyhu7JeR_poZQD2GMPRK-1iI/s1600/Dal%25C3%25AD+-+The+Disintegration+of+the+Persistence+of+Memory.+1954.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="259" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihj9HOzmtIToLoLdcNGu2r6400szE9hTBD5umMvKP7Y3kaNZiW_wtvaky3wPf4I-wdLTzRpXNjT5webXyNYqhSJ5RgSgfUJFjdo-OTfenqWlUP-o6V79Bhyhu7JeR_poZQD2GMPRK-1iI/s320/Dal%25C3%25AD+-+The+Disintegration+of+the+Persistence+of+Memory.+1954.JPG" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<br />
The value of an individual life a credo they taught us<br />
to instill fear, and inaction, 'you only live once'<br />
a fog in our eyes, we are<br />
endless as the sea, not separate, we die<br />
a million times a day, we are born<br />
a million times, each breath life and death :<br />
get up, put on your shoes, get<br />
started, someone will finish<br />
<br />
Tribe<br />
an organism, one flesh, breathing joy as the stars<br />
breathe destiny down on us, get<br />
going, join hands, see to business, thousands of sons<br />
will see to it when you fall, you will grow<br />
a thousand times in the bellies of your sisters<br />
<br />
<br />
- Diane di Prima (1934-)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com