a few weeks ago near my work…i came across so many birds all at once…if i didn’t know any better, i would have believed i was indeed some tree…

“Bird” by Pablo Neruda

It was passed from one bird to another, the whole gift of the day. The day went from flute to flute, went dressed in vegetation, in flights which opened a tunnel through the wind would pass to where birds were breaking open the dense blue air - and there, night came in.

When I returned from so many journeys, I stayed suspended and green between sun and geography - I saw how wings worked, ... read more »

Tagged beauty, birds, neruda, nyc, photos, poem

Lorca writes: “The duende, then, is a power, not a work. It is a struggle, not a thought. I have heard an old maestro of the guitar say, ‘The duende is not in the throat; the duende climbs up inside you, from the soles of the feet.’ [...] it is not a question of ability, but of true, living style, of blood, of the most ancient culture, of spontaneous creation. [...] everything that has black sounds in it, has duende [...] This mysterious power which everyone senses and no philosopher explains is, in sum, the spirit of the earth, [...] The duende’s arrival always means a radical change in forms. It brings to old planes unknown ... read more »

Tagged Duende, Lorca, photography, photos, poem, prague, Rainer Maria Rilke, travel, writing process

Some kind of relaxed and beautiful thing kept flickering in with the tide and looking around. Black as a fisherman’s boot, with a white belly.

If you asked for a picture I would have to draw a smile under the perfectly round eyes and above the chin, which was rough as a thousand sharpened nails.

And you know what a smile means, don’t you?

*

I wanted the past to go away, I wanted to leave it, like another country; I wanted my life to close, and open like a hinge, like a wing, like the part of the song where it falls down over the rocks: ... read more »

Tagged art, mary oliver, poem, poetry, seekfindseek, words

The Freedom of the Moon

I’ve tried the new moon tilted in the air Above a hazy tree-and-farmhouse cluster As you might try a jewel in your hair. I’ve tried it fine with little breadth of luster, Alone, or in one ornament combining With one first-water star almost shining.

I put it shining anywhere I please. By walking slowly on some evening later, I’ve pulled it from a crate of crooked trees, And brought it over glossy water, greater, And dropped it in, and seen the image wallow, The color run, all sorts of wonder follow.

Tagged poem, poetry, robert frost

…checked out this entire poem today after I saw a woman with a tattoo before going to Marco Rojas yoga class which said “I will wade out…”

Although I am familar with quite a bit of E.E. Cummings’ poetry I was not familar with this particular poem, which also means I did not know the singer Bjork had sung this as a song (and I like Bjork!), which also means I had my own interpretations of the poem than what the books and others “teach” you what the work means or is about.

There are moments I am grateful I don’t know everything everyone knows.

“Sometimes prevailing interpretations disrupt/interfere with personal experience of ... read more »

Tagged e. e. cummings, poem, poetry