Many of the new generation poets have told me that their poetry is not about social commitments and changes. They are handling poetry as they play with coloured stones in their palms.

Alexei and the Spring ... what an excellent and beautiful movie... especially for somebody who's kind of hooked on wendell berry... i suppose... don't miss it when/if you get the chance... just saw it on the sundance channel...

it's a big nasturtium sunday...

no walk this morning when you turn off the alarm and sleep sleep sleep... still it's a pretty day out there... a good day to stay inside and read a big mess of student writing

''Oedipus, schmoedipus, what does it matter so long as the boy loves his mother?''

it was going to be a good day... dylan's new one was coming out...

Why has the flower fascinated so many artists from the 1860s until today? Why do they paint, photograph, mould and shape flowers in all sorts of materials and in all nuances?

Unsolved Mysteries: Introduction to Research

Sharp Sand: Tears of Rage, Tears of Grief

John Henrik Clarke

this afternoon i read this poem from finish your phrase... i read it to teh sophomores in period H... i don't like doing that... but they were trying to tell me that all poets are weird... and i said hey... i'm a poet... and some of them looked like "yes, and what's yr point?"... they wanted a pome so i gave them this...

was this coming back. i seemed a good.

i seemed a good moment. then came back.

a stash of phrases. a bucket coming back

from perfect. evaporating soon. was this

a game i laughed. a pain. a cookbook dog.

...and they thought it was pretty weird... but one kid said it's kinda like the freewriting we're doing... and i said yeah... it really is...

English 101_102

Exploring Literature through Letter Writing Groups

Farmer becomes first in Tennessee to use federal funds for preservation

Experience Music Project

really... Intellectual Conservative Politics and Philosophy is a creepy site... gives my big old liberal heart the willies...

chilly walk this morning... probably no more really hot days... just the occasional slip into the high 80s through maybe october... the fog has been... artsy... picturesque all week... wish the same could be said of the fog in my head all week... where am i?

about that link to an essay at Intellectual Conservative Politics and Philosophy... a little while ago my brother suggested that i should explore my interest in two writers who have come to be identified with a kind (or kinds?) of social conservatism... i.e. wendell berry and john gardner... because i don't immediately identify myself with generally conservative notions... i've always felt myself to be (at least since 1968) a vaguely mind-my-own-business... do-unto-others... live-and-let-live... liberal... a self-described christian who is alternately embarassed and angered by the way many folks toss around the term "christian"... you know that feeling of having something near and dear to you... uh... hijacked?

well... note to self: keep thinking about this... here or elsewhere... resolve yr inconsistencies... now the bell is coming... carrying with it a roomful of sophomores who are just aching to learn about puritanism...

That Distant Land, The Collected Stories... reviewed... sort of...
Wendell Berry is a gentleman of "a certain age" and his age is a significant element of his creative genius. His maturation, moral acuity, and experiences are all factors that reach denouement in his stories, in the act of "remembering." ... (not so sure about this use of "denouement"... never liked that word)

What is Going on In Chechnya? (via in a dark time)

Priest leaves legacy ... (thanks for the link, mt.)
One of the things I loved most about Medard was that he wasn't like anyone I had ever met. He was the first priest I knew who came down off the altar to deliver his homily, making himself accessible to his congregation, demolishing the widely held belief that priests believe they are above those they serve.

Folk Music of England, Scotland, Ireland, Wales and America ... lots of lyrics and midi files

Recovering a Protestant Mary
Wendell Berry puts it well in his poem 'The Way of Pain': 'Unless we grieve like Mary / at His grave, giving Him up / as lost, no Easter morning comes.'

don't you just hate when you've got one class that's bigger than the others... and that's the one they add students to? i think this is a first principle... a most basic truth of the universe... the new kid never goes to the smallest class...

The Agony Column Audio Interview Archive

List of Poetry about Poetry

Sipapu--Chetro Ketl Great Kiva

no bestness
only be-ness

we read, we write

(via tex files)

ronald sukenick: I'll say it again: use your imagination or someone will use it for you. ... via fait accompli

For some meditation, contemplation, prayer indicate that there is
an emptiness already built into each body and it is that which
(paradoxically) makes these persons feel at home in the cosmos.

But she wasn't even aware of being particularly interested in salvation or enlightenment. She certainly felt, though, as if she were on a pilgrimage. What was she wandering toward, then ? Can there be a pilgrimage without a set destination or goal ? Maybe search was a better word, although it made her cringe a little, as did much religious vocabulary. She didn't think she could utter the phrase I am a seeker with a straight face.

Lexington Herald-Leader | Verse with Kentucky always in mind