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i is for
07 July 2012 @ 12:26 pm
Shh. Listen.
 
 
i is for
31 January 2011 @ 04:16 pm
"The blues is simply how life feels as it goes on."
 
 
i is for
01 January 2011 @ 04:54 am
Burning the Old Year
by Naomi Shihab Nye

Letters swallow themselves in seconds.
Notes friends tied to the doorknob,
transparent scarlet paper,
sizzle like moth wings,
marry the air.

So much of any year is flammable,
lists of vegetables, partial poems.
Orange swirling flame of days,
so little is a stone.

Where there was something and suddenly isn’t,
an absence shouts, celebrates, leaves a space.
I begin again with the smallest numbers.

Quick dance, shuffle of losses and leaves,
only the things I didn’t do
crackle after the blazing dies.
 
 
i is for
30 December 2009 @ 03:54 pm
Bruno Schulz: The books which we read in childhood don't exist anywhere; they fluttered away - bare skeletons remain. Whoever would still have in himself the marrow of childhood ought to write them anew as they were then.
 
 
Current Music: Eric Dolphy
 
 
i is for
29 December 2009 @ 03:04 am
How Is It That the Snow
by Robert Haight

How is it that the snow
amplifies the silence,
slathers the black bark on limbs,
heaps along the brush rows?

Some deer have stood on their hind legs
to pull the berries down.
Now they are ghosts along the path,
snow flecked with red wine stains.

This silence in the timbers.
A woodpecker on one of the trees
taps out its story,
stopping now and then in the lapse
of one white moment into another.
 
 
Current Music: the breaths of a quiet house
 
 
 
i is for
07 December 2009 @ 02:41 am
I read this today. It made me cry and feel broken but also strong and alive.

http://perihelionreview.com/Essays/Hayan%20Charara/hayan_charara_animals_on_the_role_of_a_poet_in_a_country_at_war.html
 
 
i is for
25 November 2009 @ 10:24 pm
Perhaps here began a prying sympathy for the victims of sloth and recurrent mistakes, sympathy for the tendency of lives to obey the laws of gravity and to sink downward, falling as gently and slowly as a kite, or violently breaking, smashing.

Sleepless Nights
, pg 13
 
 
i is for
28 April 2009 @ 11:06 pm
Kierkegaard: "What is a poet? An unhappy person who conceals profound anguish in his heart but whose lips are so formed that as sighs and cries pass over them they sound like beautiful music."
 
 
i is for
20 January 2009 @ 11:52 pm
 
He had no idea what kind of glory he wanted, or what kind he was suited for. He knew only that in the depths of the world's darkness was a point of light which had been provided for him alone and would draw near someday to irradiate him and no other.
 

The Sailor Who Fell from Grace with the Sea
, pg 16
 
 
Current Music: J. Tillman
 
 
i is for
04 July 2008 @ 11:24 pm
Look upon the evening as the death of the day; and upon the morning as the birth of all things.

Let every moment renew your vision.


The wise man is he who constantly wonders afresh.

Fruits of the Earth, pg 25
 
 
Current Music: Twinkle by Erykah Badu