Sunday, May 29
link


"The desire to go home that is a desire to be whole, to know where you are, to be the point of intersection of all the lines drawn through all the stars, to be the constellation-maker and the center of the world, that center called love. To awaken from sleep, to rest from awakening, to tame the animal, to let the soul go wild, to shelter in darkness and blaze with light, to cease to speak and be perfectly understood."
 - Rebecca Solnit



Saturday, May 28
link


Theories of Time and Space
You can get there from here, though
there's no going home.

Everywhere you go will be somewhere
you've never been. Try this:

head south on Mississippi 49, one -
by - one mile markers ticking off

another minute of your life. Follow this
to its natural conclusion - dead end

at the coast, the pier at Gulfport where
riggings of shrimp boats are loose stitches

in a sky threatening rain. Cross over
the man-made beach, 26 miles of sand

dumped on a mangrove swamp - buried
terrain of the past. Bring only

what you must carry - tome of memory
its random blank pages. On the dock

where you board the boat for Ship Island,
someone will take your picture:

the photograph - who you were -
will be waiting when you return
 - Natasha Trethewey
Native Guard



Friday, May 27
link


The Mind in State
Does consciousness exist only when
you name it?  Was the double helix a
stranger, the nucleus the  first brain?
I feel  therefore I am.  This  is  more
peptide than pep-talk. The tongueless
mood is sticking its tongue out at us.
The mountain  wool is  shaved into
vineyards. Without other there is no
self & and we are not always other of
other selves. Is the moon a self, is
wine or grape? The body & the as-if
body, taking time taste waking slow
rain healing grass.
 - Fady Joudah
Textu
poets



Thursday, May 26
link


All of my favorite friends
Are the people who move
In and out
They derail

They derailed
The mind is not the rational
It is the irrational

It is the irrational
That is worth living for
You think that knowledge is ordered
But you are sadly wrong

Knowledge is the divine
Unordered thing
 - Dorothea Lasky
from The Mind
Thing



Tuesday, May 24
link


"If the boundaries of the self are defined by what we feel, then those who cannot feel even for themselves shrink within their own boundaries, while those who feel for others are enlarged, and those who feel compassion for all beings must be boundless. They are not separate, not alone, not lonely, not vulnerable in the same way as those of us stranded in the islands of ourselves, but they are vulnerable in other ways. Still, that sense of the dangers of feeling for others is so compelling that many withdraw, and develop elaborate stories to justify withdrawal, and then forget that they have shrunk. Most of us do, one way or another."
 - Rebecca Solnit



Monday, May 23
link


"You begin to suspect, as you gaze through this you-shaped hole of insight and fire, that though it is the most important thing you own - never deny that for an instant - it has not shielded you from anything terribly important. The only consolation is that though one could have thrown it away at any time, morning or night, one didn't. One chose to endure. Without any assurance of immortality, or even competence, one only knows one has not been cheated out of the consolation of carpenters, accountants, doctors, ditch-diggers, the ordinary people who must do useful things to be happy. Meander along, then, half blind and a little mad, wondering when you actually learned - was it before you began? - the terrifying fact that had you thrown it away, your wound would have been no more likely to heal: indeed, in an affluent society such as this, you might even have gone on making songs, poems, pictures, and getting paid. The only difference would have been - and you learned it listening to all those brutally unhappy people who did throw away theirs - and they do, after all, comprise the vast and terrifying majority - that without it, there plainly and starkly would have been nothing there; no, nothing at all."
 - Samuel R. Delany
Dhalgren









  • ". . . as I have said often enough, I write for myself in multiplicate,
    a not unfamiliar phenomenon on the horizon of shimmering deserts."
    - Vladimir Nabokov