Poem of the Morning
I came across this poem by Adrienne Rich, and thought of the work you two do at Queen of Peace. My heart is moved By all I cannot save So much has been destroyed. I…
I came across this poem by Adrienne Rich, and thought of the work you two do at Queen of Peace. My heart is moved By all I cannot save So much has been destroyed. I…
1. [This book’s] style and method—the interplay of text and photos, the mixture of genres, modes, styles—do not tell a consecutive story, nor do they constitute a political essay. Since the main features of our…
Some people open the Bible and let their eye fall on a line to bring consolation or insight I turn to Leaves of Grass To quicken pulse To expand heart To spark smiles… The following is…
1. Scribbled secret notebooks, and wild typewritten pages, for yr own joy 2. Submissive to everything, open, listening 3. Try never get drunk outside yr own house 4. Be in love with yr life 5….
Chuang-tzu dreams he’s a butterfly, And a butterfly becomes Chuang-tzu. All transformation this one body, Boundless occurrence goes on and on: It’s no surprise eastern seas become Western streams shallow and clear, Or the melon-grower…
If you want to build a ship, don’t herd people together to collect wood and don’t assign them tasks and work, but rather teach them to long for the endless immensity of the sea. –Antoine…
This past June, José Saramago died. He was 87. Awarded the Noble Prize for Literature in 1998, he was the author of such novels as Blindness, The Gospel according to Jesus Christ, and The Year of the Death…
On Charles Reznikoff, Testimony, v.2 The United States (1885-1915): Recitative I can’t say I was tremendously impressed with this “broken-up prose” (wife Marie Syrkin’s label). Maybe it’s the dating—it’s way back in US history, and it’s hard…
Neeta and I were happily shopping for books in Left Bank Books this afternoon, and she ended up with Roberto Bolaño’s The Savage Detectives and I left with Days of Reading by Proust. As for the inner book of…
Lubna, If you lived here (or I there), we could have a bi-weekly Proust Reading Club! The following passage is from Marcel Proust, Within a Budding Grove: It was along this train of thought, meditated in silence…