Wednesday, November 28, 2012

The Snow Man By Wallace Stevens

One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
of the pine-trees crusted with snow;
.
And have been cold a long time
to behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distance glitter.
.
of the January sun, and not to think
of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves.
.
Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
that is blowing in the same bare place.
.
For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.

Tuesday, November 20, 2012

We Are Building the Boat as We Design It!

The initial excitement
sailing the ocean, the ship's
starting materials are bamboo
or wooden raft, that
is basic and firm enough
to stay afloat.
It's awkward to force
someone to believe the rule
of bouyance when one
is as young as a juvenile-
very good to know later:
Sleekening the hull,
turning things
neater and more comfortable...

Thursday, November 15, 2012

Alive by Justin Stone

The most visible creators I know of
are those artists whose medium
is life itself.
.
The ones who express
the inexpressible-
without brush, hammer, clay, or guitar.
They neither paint nor sculpt-
their medium is being.
.
what their pressure touches
has increased life.
They see but don't have to draw.
They are the artists of being
alive.

Thursday, November 8, 2012

Quote of the Day



There is no confusion of objects in the eye, but one hill or one tree or one man.


                               -----N. Scott Momaday
                                       House Made of Dawn

Friday, November 2, 2012

Morgenlied




winter leaves




I saw a white own outside my window,
The tree was bare, the trunks show three.
.
Icy leaves, motionless on grass,
shaped as bells of crimson glass.
.
Azure glass and emerald glass tremble,
as I walk pass the place, humble.
.
The owl stood in the tree alone,
and in her beak she clutched a bone.
.
I went up the hill,
the universe was white and still.
.
And there was neither tree nor bird,
and no bell shook and no leaf stirred.


Hyde Park Thursday Poets Rally Week 76: October 31-November 7, 2012





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