Sunday, December 04, 2005
from Rue Hazard
... 21 November
... missed it back then ...Ain't
we poets here just to roil the language up, to pet its fine coat
tail to nape? The idea that one'd attempt to
usage of that mess vis-a-vis a word that apparently calls for
inappropriate behaviour, seems, uh, inappropriate.
like a modest proposal from Stephen
... just might be the thing ...As a whole, large generation, so-called "Aging
Boomers" begin to move into thier seventies, eighties and
ninetes, youthful generations - at least those who do not want
to abandon thierr elders - will form "language brigades"
to combat the depression and griefs from aging. Similar to the
revolutionary artists, the "Constructivists" of 1915
Russia, these brigades, individually or in groups, will join and
perform readings among the ranks of their elders. Works by Gertrude
Stein, Dr. Seuss, Elizabeth Sitwell will be at the foundation
of thier work. Superfially, I suspect, this sounds crazy.(We live
in a country where poetry is so marginal). Whether or not the
listening experience is a verifiable form of "re-ordering
the genes" within one's DNA, I do not know. However, the
experience and sight of radiant and gratified elder audiences
will be worth its weight in gold - and, oh, so much cheaper to
provide than the oppessive costs of mind numbing drugs.
Saturday, December 03, 2005
is the Saturday Poet over at The
... it's a great long poem called Sea'd Saga
... and it begins ...in
I have lived not by the sea
yet the sea has lived in me
aslosh and tide driven
in the bone white chalice
so you see it's safe to read ...
and won't give you a hopeless mental thrashing like some
other poets we know
... who don't care much for grammar or
common sense ... and you'll find suzanne's plenty playful in words
... just go read the thing.
Friday, December 02, 2005
Thursday, December 01, 2005
On the Comprehensive Empathy of Walt Whitman -- and Its Kinship
to the Comic Mode
assert that death is a class of destruction. No great news there.
But I want to add that death, though a rather complete and maybe
even "no nonsense" kind of destruction, is at heart
a comic sort of destruction. And I think Whitman, though not himself
a comic writer, knew this. Let me explain.
Comic destruction is never merely destructive; it
has a levity to it, as if it will be followed by an improving
and restorative force. Death to me is like this. Cartoons, also,
are like this ...
stumble onto this just as ... as you see ... i'm back from a funeral
... and just as the sophomores are negotiating whitman's fresh
moves .. and just as the seniors have considered tragedy and comedy
... yes, comic destruction ...
april's funeral now ... as nice a one of those as any one of those
can be ... i saw you there too ... so you know what i mean...
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
from thomas merton
...Be content that you are not
yet a saint, even though you realize that the only thing worth
living for is sanctity. Then you will be satisfied to let God
lead you to sanctity by paths that you cannot understand. You
will travel in darkness in which you will no longer be concerned
with yourself and no longer compare yourself to other men. Those
who have gone by that way have finally found out that sanctity
is in everything and that God is all around them. Having given
up all desire to compete with other men, they suddenly wake up
and find that the joy of God is everywhere, and they are able
to exult in the virtues and goodness of others more than ever
they could have done in their own. They are so dazzled by the
reflection of God in the souls of the men they live with that
they no longer have any power to condemn anything they see in
another. Even in the greatest sinners they can see virtues and
goodness that no one else can find. As for themselves, if they
still consider themselves, they no longer dare to compare themselves
with others. The idea has now become unthinkable. But it is no
longer a source of suffering and lamentation: they have finally
reached the point where they take their own insignificance for
granted. They are no longer interested in their external selves.
From New Seeds of Contemplation
by Thomas Merton. New York: New Directions, 1972.
Monday, November 28, 2005
this morning that one of our teachers ... april muellner ... has
died after a long series of struggles with cancer ... she stopped
teaching after first quarter ... with a hope that she'd be back
after christmas ... but that wasn't to be ... april was a model
of quiet grace and hope under much pressure ... and one of those
people who teach faith by living it in all the important ways
... may she rest in peace
t j b l
u g archive
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