- This beautiful, beautiful piece (by A. Papatya Bucak in Brevity) that reads like a manifesto for the writing life. You'll be happy you read it.
- Another wonderful piece (by Lisa Fay Coutley in Passages North) on writing, place, and longing.
- Anne Valente's An Elegy for Mathematics (Origami Zoo Press). A poetic, innovative book of so-called "small stories." Read one of the pieces, "He Who Finds It Lives Forever" online at Necessary Fiction.
- Lynda Barry's syllabus (kindly posted by Austin Kleon). I wish my syllabus looked as fun as this!
Friday, January 31, 2014
Thursday, January 30, 2014
Undivided Attention
Undivided Attention
Flood of attention to bathe this land
to eddy around the beloved
and all else will be still
The field in the morning
is most beautiful when you look out over it
alone
Make of your mind a tilted bucket
Also tip the field
This is the pre-elegy
As it turns out you and this land share most things
Flood of attention to bathe this land
to eddy around the beloved
and all else will be still
The field in the morning
is most beautiful when you look out over it
alone
Make of your mind a tilted bucket
Also tip the field
This is the pre-elegy
As it turns out you and this land share most things
Tuesday, January 28, 2014
Lunch Break
Lunch Break
I rearrange the mountain so I can disappear in it
just for my lunch break There is an opening in it
like the doggy door through which the bags are fed
at baggage claim onto the carousel Think of how many
mummies could fit inside of a mountain The pyramids
are gifts from humans of the past A mountain
can be conjured from the dust and made into
a casket Every body is a suitcase With every brick
a builder says We were here before
I rearrange the mountain so I can disappear in it
just for my lunch break There is an opening in it
like the doggy door through which the bags are fed
at baggage claim onto the carousel Think of how many
mummies could fit inside of a mountain The pyramids
are gifts from humans of the past A mountain
can be conjured from the dust and made into
a casket Every body is a suitcase With every brick
a builder says We were here before
Monday, January 27, 2014
Marks
Marks
A stone means one thing in isolation
and another grouped A place can follow
you home in its stones by sneaking into
your pocket or palm or shoe Two or more
stones grouped together on the ground
and a person has tried to leave a little
of themselves behind Later that human
can think of that assemblage of stones
under the pines that stare out into the water
or in a row on the ledge of a headstone
The self can be scattered and not diminished
A stone means one thing in isolation
and another grouped A place can follow
you home in its stones by sneaking into
your pocket or palm or shoe Two or more
stones grouped together on the ground
and a person has tried to leave a little
of themselves behind Later that human
can think of that assemblage of stones
under the pines that stare out into the water
or in a row on the ledge of a headstone
The self can be scattered and not diminished
Friday, January 24, 2014
On Creativity: How Does It Feel...
So, I've got questions for you, fellow creative types (I'm working on a little project.) When you are creative/when you make art, how does it feel? What sensations or emotions register as you create art? When you make art, do you feel more present or less present? What kind of a mental space do you envision (if any)? What, if anything, is consistent about the emotional space from which you create? Thanks for any thoughts you choose to share.
Also, orange you glad it's almost the weekend?
Wednesday, January 22, 2014
The Aloe Vera Grows Ragged
The Aloe Vera Grows Ragged
Break the barbed plant to heal a burn.
The aloe vera grows ragged but
is not wild.
Plants are half-asleep.
Sleep is what breaks time into sentences,
drowsiness is how sleep reaches for us.
Sleep is a many-tentacled thing.
Everything is a many-tentacled thing.
Break the barbed plant to heal a burn.
The aloe vera grows ragged but
is not wild.
Plants are half-asleep.
Sleep is what breaks time into sentences,
drowsiness is how sleep reaches for us.
Sleep is a many-tentacled thing.
Everything is a many-tentacled thing.
Tuesday, January 21, 2014
Jungle Gym
Jungle Gym
Today I care for every iteration of the self
even those that are reckless and wasteful
even those that are timid
Today I buckle the vegetable lo mein into the passenger seat
At this intersection, always the same two cars
the pale blue one and the white one
At the empty playground
the jungle gym hoards the last of the snow
Today I care for every iteration of the self
even those that are reckless and wasteful
even those that are timid
Today I buckle the vegetable lo mein into the passenger seat
At this intersection, always the same two cars
the pale blue one and the white one
At the empty playground
the jungle gym hoards the last of the snow
Friday, January 17, 2014
Recent Earworm: Janelle Monáe's "Dance Apocalyptic"
Cannot get this song out of my head, which is not necessarily a bad thing. So catchy!
What songs are living in your brain these days?
What songs are living in your brain these days?
Thursday, January 16, 2014
All of the Faraway Places
All of the Faraway Places
All of the faraway places laugh and
clap. It sounds like a bushel of cannonballs
shuttling down into valley. A horde
of echoes. Can’t you come here,
the faraway places are giddy
for a glimpse of you in your kayak.
A dusty bazaar with reams of scarves.
A watchmaker’s shop carved into
the side of a mountain. A beach
without humans for fifty years.
The swamp likes you. The grove
likes you. The cliffs like you.
All of the faraway places find you
dreamy. Changeable creature, dangle
your legs over their edge. Don’t you
trust the world with your body.
All of the faraway places laugh and
clap. It sounds like a bushel of cannonballs
shuttling down into valley. A horde
of echoes. Can’t you come here,
the faraway places are giddy
for a glimpse of you in your kayak.
A dusty bazaar with reams of scarves.
A watchmaker’s shop carved into
the side of a mountain. A beach
without humans for fifty years.
The swamp likes you. The grove
likes you. The cliffs like you.
All of the faraway places find you
dreamy. Changeable creature, dangle
your legs over their edge. Don’t you
trust the world with your body.
Wednesday, January 15, 2014
Cows in Trees
Cows in Trees
The iron fence is blushing
unequally
The oldest parts of the fence
distinguishing themselves with the most rust
What is damp and still
or moves very slowly
calls out to life
presents itself as a home
Think of the shaggy green
sloth emerging from a tree
The iron fence is blushing
unequally
The oldest parts of the fence
distinguishing themselves with the most rust
What is damp and still
or moves very slowly
calls out to life
presents itself as a home
Think of the shaggy green
sloth emerging from a tree
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
The Universe Consoles Itself
The Universe Consoles Itself
The rain speaks to the bricks
And the ivy also speaks
to the bricks but with
the urgency of collar-clinging
love
Snow and ice speak to the street
Potholes speak to the cars
The black cat speaks to the metal fence
in sneaking beneath its hem
The darkness speaks to the trees
and the houses hear
I speak to the moon by looking at it
while I scrub the colander in the sink
Whoever else looks at the moon
from now on
and from all of time before
we are speaking to each other
The rain speaks to the bricks
And the ivy also speaks
to the bricks but with
the urgency of collar-clinging
love
Snow and ice speak to the street
Potholes speak to the cars
The black cat speaks to the metal fence
in sneaking beneath its hem
The darkness speaks to the trees
and the houses hear
I speak to the moon by looking at it
while I scrub the colander in the sink
Whoever else looks at the moon
from now on
and from all of time before
we are speaking to each other
Monday, January 13, 2014
A Wolf Is a Pack
A Wolf Is a Pack
Behind every wolf
is another wolf
These wolves are almost the same
but there is a little distance
between them
Alone, the wolf is a pack
just as behind every person
is another person
The ones in front want to be recognized
The ones that cower behind
all they can think about is what they want
Behind every wolf
is another wolf
These wolves are almost the same
but there is a little distance
between them
Alone, the wolf is a pack
just as behind every person
is another person
The ones in front want to be recognized
The ones that cower behind
all they can think about is what they want
Friday, January 10, 2014
Inspired by...the flying ships of Luigi Prina
Please enjoy this amazingly charming video of architect and artist Luigi Prina (via ArtNau....see the article here). Doesn't it make you want to camp out beneath those beautiful ships, drinking coffee with Luigi?
To learn even more about Prina's work, read the original article here on Blinking City.
To learn even more about Prina's work, read the original article here on Blinking City.
Thursday, January 9, 2014
Museum of Flowers
Museum of Flowers
The leaf was designed to fly
even though it was born as a leaf
It is not a mean joke
It is the sweetest joke
Before it belonged to this world
it slept the warm, dark sleep
of the pre-world-greenhouse
Picture the tropical rainforest room
at the museum of flowers
with no space between each plant
and the lights off
and no edges
to any plants
or to the room
a vat of nebulous contentment
The leaf was designed to fly
even though it was born as a leaf
It is not a mean joke
It is the sweetest joke
Before it belonged to this world
it slept the warm, dark sleep
of the pre-world-greenhouse
Picture the tropical rainforest room
at the museum of flowers
with no space between each plant
and the lights off
and no edges
to any plants
or to the room
a vat of nebulous contentment
Wednesday, January 8, 2014
The Cookbook Is Indignant
The Cookbook Is Indignant
The recipe says
Mind you, it is difficult to be patient
The recipe says
You must leave the crust alone with its thoughts
The recipe says
All pasta not from Italy is a floppy towel
and should be flung aside
You call that disgust
The recipe comes from the future
from the best selves of a history-bound people
Before the recipe you are lowly
And in your bowl there is place
and love and the sun
and tyranny and bones
and the quiet, definitive power of a blade
The recipe says
Mind you, it is difficult to be patient
The recipe says
You must leave the crust alone with its thoughts
The recipe says
All pasta not from Italy is a floppy towel
and should be flung aside
You call that disgust
The recipe comes from the future
from the best selves of a history-bound people
Before the recipe you are lowly
And in your bowl there is place
and love and the sun
and tyranny and bones
and the quiet, definitive power of a blade
Tuesday, January 7, 2014
The Beach
The Beach
We find the lovers on the beach
We have placed them there
They draw the water over themselves
like a duvet
One will touch the other’s hair
with wonder
They think of the ocean
pulling the world apart like taffy
If the earth dropped out
their entwined bodies would fall
with stunning velocity
Heavy statues
plummeting through deep space
They tell each other
about how all things will halt
Also about how things will go on
in a way they imagine
They have seen the sun clamber up
to its perch in the dunk tank
They will bring a blanket around their
pressed together shoulders
The beach will get up with them when they leave
We find the lovers on the beach
We have placed them there
They draw the water over themselves
like a duvet
One will touch the other’s hair
with wonder
They think of the ocean
pulling the world apart like taffy
If the earth dropped out
their entwined bodies would fall
with stunning velocity
Heavy statues
plummeting through deep space
They tell each other
about how all things will halt
Also about how things will go on
in a way they imagine
They have seen the sun clamber up
to its perch in the dunk tank
They will bring a blanket around their
pressed together shoulders
The beach will get up with them when they leave
Monday, January 6, 2014
The Student
The Student
But I don’t want to be a student of fear.
What would you rather be a student of?
I don’t know.
Love.
Adventure.
You’ll have two teachers.
I mean, I’m grateful--
Your teachers are Fear and also What Scares You.
So you’re saying it’s too late to shift my studies.
You chose each other.
Your training has already begun.
Ok, fine. Is there anything I can be doing differently, to
make this more enjoyable.
It’s a good question.
No.
So, I should just keep doing what I’ve been doing.
That’s right. Keep watching that darkness.
You’re doing great.
But I don’t want to be a student of fear.
What would you rather be a student of?
I don’t know.
Love.
Adventure.
You’ll have two teachers.
I mean, I’m grateful--
Your teachers are Fear and also What Scares You.
So you’re saying it’s too late to shift my studies.
You chose each other.
Your training has already begun.
Ok, fine. Is there anything I can be doing differently, to
make this more enjoyable.
It’s a good question.
No.
So, I should just keep doing what I’ve been doing.
That’s right. Keep watching that darkness.
You’re doing great.
Friday, January 3, 2014
Happy New Year: Know Your Chicken
From me and my beloved chicken tape dispenser (thanks for this many-years-ago birthday present, Heather!), Happy New Year!
Please let this image dispense one of the following pieces of chicken-themed wisdom:
a) Hope is the thing with feathers that says "bok bok."
b) Don't be chicken in 2014. No offense to the chickens.
c) This year, cross any roads you damn well please.
d) Divvy eggs up amongst lots of baskets and when you count them remember that they aren't chickens just yet, friend.
Let me know which suits you best. You got to know your chicken.
Thursday, January 2, 2014
Deep Magic
Deep Magic
Sitting still to look with better eyes.
It’s how we beckon to the deep magic.
Call the trees down from themselves.
All places shall become leafed and needled.
Snap and make kissing sounds to the
stones. The closest ones will wobble closer.
You can’t build your house here.
The deep magic will have no neighbors.
We take what we can take while we are here.
You watch the rocks and the pond. I’ve got
the fog, the poor posture of the trees.
One day, far from here, a tree will shrug
and I will see it. You will find a rock in your
pocket. It’s the deep magic checking in.
Sitting still to look with better eyes.
It’s how we beckon to the deep magic.
Call the trees down from themselves.
All places shall become leafed and needled.
Snap and make kissing sounds to the
stones. The closest ones will wobble closer.
You can’t build your house here.
The deep magic will have no neighbors.
We take what we can take while we are here.
You watch the rocks and the pond. I’ve got
the fog, the poor posture of the trees.
One day, far from here, a tree will shrug
and I will see it. You will find a rock in your
pocket. It’s the deep magic checking in.
Wednesday, January 1, 2014
Sleuth
Sleuth
The snow floats down and up
and the clouds swim east
and the gasoline in the pump
rushes into the hip of my car
beneath my hand and what I think
Nancy Drew really signifies
(along with all the other young
detectives) is the certainty
that there is continuity to the world
and that all things gone missing
or misplaced will reveal themselves
to us in clues
The snow floats down and up
and the clouds swim east
and the gasoline in the pump
rushes into the hip of my car
beneath my hand and what I think
Nancy Drew really signifies
(along with all the other young
detectives) is the certainty
that there is continuity to the world
and that all things gone missing
or misplaced will reveal themselves
to us in clues