After rush hour, late yesterday, I returned from our new place in Batavia. We have yet to move in, — my visit was to assess the dimensions of the rooms, to get a sense of what is possible. The space of habitation determines, almost absolutely, the form and texture of the life that is…
This morning as always I switched on the car radio. It was tuned to NPR. The host was in the midst of an interview with someone opining on the antics of the President. I reached for the dashboard and turned it off. I felt my psyche bend under the additional weight of hearing more…
This post is a stream of consciousness discourse, the contents of my mind today. I have memories of my day at the race track, wonderful memories, with some left-over photos to share. This is prefaced and framed by the unhinged comments made by the President. Life is nothing but a mixture of good and…
We live our lives as the unique, “one-off” human being that we are. There has never been, and there will never be another you. You and I are the summation of a long intersection of confluences, lost in the recesses of historical time of your ancestors. We are also the result of coincidences, that…
It is the world of the imagination in which the imaginative man/woman delights and not the gaunt world of reason. The pleasure is the pleasure of powers that create a truth that cannot be arrived at by the reason alone, a truth that the poet recognizes by sensation. The morality of the poet’s radiant…
There is life apart from politics. It is this life that the youth as virile poet lives, in a kind of radiant and productive atmosphere. It is the life of that atmosphere. There the philosopher is an alien. The pleasure that the poet has there is a pleasure of agreement with the radiant and…
Pied Beauty Gerard Manley Hopkins – 1844-1889 Glory be to God for dappled things— For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow; For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim; Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings; Landscape plotted and pieced—fold, fallow, and plough; And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim. All things counter,…
I am reading a collection of essays by Wallace Stevens, a poet of the 20th century. His insights into what words do for us “knocks me out.” I think these few lines written about poetry suggest the relationship between poetry and philosophy. The promise of reason is that we may clarify what must be…
Slept fitfully last night, but that is not unusual. Perhaps that was due to elevated blood sugar that I measured just before my breakfast of cheerios. I’ve been diabetic for a while, and controlling blood sugar is like staying on a pitching rodeo bull. I am thrown often, and I know that I will…
If we say the idea of God is merely a poetic idea, even the supreme poetic idea, and that our notions of heaven and hell are merely poetry not so called, even if poetry involves us vitally, the feeling of deliverance, of a release, of a perfection touched, of a vocation so that all…
