The Dry Salvages by T. S. Eliot Stanza II The backward look behind the assurance Of recorded history, the backward half-look Over the shoulder, towards the primitive terror. Now, we come to discover that the moments of agony (Whether, or not, due to misunderstanding, Having hoped for the wrong things or dreaded the wrong…
The mystery of language, the poetic imagination, and the mind of compassion are roughly one and the same,… Back On The Fire by Gary Snyder, The Path to Matsuyama, p. 60 Saturday morning, sun light filters through a high film of clouds. A light breeze brushes the surface of the retention pond just outside…
The thanc [Old English] means man’s/woman’s innermost mind, heart, the heart’s core, that innermost essence of man/woman which reaches outward most fully and to the outermost limits, and so decisively that, rightfully considered, the idea of an inner and out outer world does not arise. When we listen to the word thanc in its…
Late summer is construction season. Construction is in progress all of the time, somewhere. This is the nature of things since our ancestors learned that farming was better than hunting and gathering. We began living in villages. That was not so long ago if you use the time scale of the universe. The Neolithic…
Thursday, presents as an idealized summer’s day. Rainfall has been sufficient here, though late summer is often dry. As is my custom the last hour or so I’ve been situated at Starbucks. Several cups of flavorful, hot coffee, reading, and satisfying conversation filled the time. I continue to read Rediscovery of Awe by Kirk…
At last Friday is here. Retired, five or so years are in the rear view mirror, I only have a memory of deadlines, of moral and financial and administrative accountability with co-workers and customers. That was my life. All is change, and everything, no exceptions has its season. All is now, – a flow…
April’s final day promises to be glorious with a Natality that always surprises and inspires. Having witnessed the emergence of vegetation in springtime year by year, I feel delight once again at the onrush of life. New life rises up from a brown and gray debris strewn ground. Never ending life is concealed from…
“Animula” ‘Issues from the hand of God, the simple soul’ To a flat world of changing lights and noise, To light, dark, dry or damp, chilly or warm; Moving between the legs of tables and of chairs, Rising or falling, grasping at kisses and toys, Advancing boldly, sudden to take alarm, Retreating to the…
Mid April. At present it is seventy degrees out-of-doors. Much is green as rain has been ample. The morning held for me a session of shoveling mulch into the wheel barrow, to dispose each load in beds containing shrubs and emerging green plants. The task is not as simple as you’d believe. The mulch…
III O dark dark dark. They all go into the dark, The vacant interstellar spaces, the vacant into the vacant, The captains, merchant bankers, eminent men of letters, The generous patrons of art, the statesmen and the rulers, Distinguished civil servants, chairmen of many committees, Industrial lords and petty contractors, all go into the…
