avril 2009

The hand that can’t be told

Par |2017-04-04T06:58:21+01:00avril 30th, 2009|Textes|

Recall a verse from a song from childhood, what used to be called a "negro" spiritual: He's got the whole world in his hand... And then of course there's the grain of sand in the palm of, and the universe, and I wanna hold your..., and Maradona's Hand of God, etc. Tonight, in images on [...]

May retreat

Par |2015-10-12T16:20:12+01:00avril 29th, 2009|Textes|

Il reste quelques places pour la retraite Wild Flower du 21 au 24 mai en normandie. (There are a few places left for the May 21-24 Wild Flower retreat in Normandy.) Infos et inscription/registration: zenscribe@free.fr

The End of the World as I Know It

Par |2009-04-28T18:43:35+01:00avril 28th, 2009|Poésie|

It's the end of the world as I know it at The front door in white pellets on the walk The constant disappearance of everything I know Stones the size of a clamor melt the roof Suddenly there's this hail of hail and then Suddenly this not-hail hailing the il n'y plus rattle of hail [...]

No one on the edge of night

Par |2015-10-02T14:22:44+01:00avril 22nd, 2009|Textes|

A newcomer fidgets during sitting practice. I remind myself to give her some instruction: It's essential to have a base on which to deconstruct. Message from an editor who declines to publish one of my new poems, a piece full of darkness and descent. She liked my previous work, full of luminous, inventive word play, [...]

So generous an experience

Par |2015-10-02T14:23:41+01:00avril 21st, 2009|Textes|

Last night's sitting was filled with quiet birdsong and the shimmy of a thread of incense smoke. It rose and swerved and spilled into the air all around. I could have stayed for hours. Then working today on a translation I come across Rilke and "the interior space of the world" that had been revealed [...]

Shine a (discreet) light

Par |2017-04-04T06:58:21+01:00avril 19th, 2009|Textes|

All weekend, as I go about home activities (waking, sleeping, dressing, cooking, cleaning, talking, shopping) and then take up the day-job of cutting, fitting, packaging reports of what a select few have sorted and catergorized as the day's most worthy news, I am with a few incisive words from Georges Bataille about the nature and [...]

I still am

Par |2015-10-02T14:24:44+01:00avril 13th, 2009|Textes|

Having never left, I am back again. This, although I traveled to Portugal, where we sat together deepening the minutes, hours, days, surrounded by green hills and the brassy music of a fireman's band rehearsing in the ramshackle hall next door. This, although I then crossed mountains and rivers and towns, returning now to the [...]

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