In memory of Mary Oliver

The American poet Mary Oliver was no stranger to melancholy — but often her kind of melancholy seems to be of a more vital quality, than the kind of melancholia observed in Sebald’s univers. Listen to this: The Uses of Sorrow (In my sleep I dreamed this poem) Someone I loved once game mea box…

After Sebald

… moving on – or maybe not … because honestly; isn’t this poem, like so many exquisite works of art, just another variation of the troublesome Sebaldian story? Maged Zaher “Untitled” I’m few déjà-vus from repeating my whole lifeI need to study the shapes of things before deathBefore declaring myself a better failure:  waiting mostly…

Ruins of Nostalgia

Browsing David Orr’s list of “Best Poetry of 2018” I came across the poet Donna Stonecipher, whom I had never heard of. And naturally I decided to check her up — this is what I found (or at least some of it…). Happy reading! The Ruins of Nostalgia 1 In the fall we were nostalgic…

“I never really separated painting and literature.”

Claire Daigle writes: In 1959 Twombly executed some of the most spare works of his career, among them the 24 drawings that comprise Poems to the Sea, done on the coast of Italy. What order of poems, punctuated with numerals and question marks, are these? The sea is reduced to horizon line and word, scribblings and…

I DON’T LIKE HEARING that poetry is dying or dead –

I prefer the absurdity of writing poems to the absurdity of not writing poems… Possibilities I prefer movies. I prefer cats. I prefer the oaks along the Warta. I prefer Dickens to Dostoyevsky. I prefer myself liking people to myself loving mankind. I prefer keeping a needle and thread on hand, just in case. I…

I like a quiet life –

Lunch dates take the heart out of the day and the spaciousness from the morning’s work  Journal of a Solitude May Sarton May Sarton   May Sarton (1912-1995) was a prolific American writer of poetry, novels and journals. She is, perhaps, best known for her nonfiction on growing older (Recovering: A Journal and Journal of a…

Sunday poem on a Saturday

Lighthouse Keeping – Seas pleat winds keen fogs deepen ships lean no doubt, and the lighthouse keeper keeps a light for those left out. It is intimate and remote both for the keeper and those afloat. Kay Ryan (from my sketchbook)

cloud~watching

All day I tried to paint the sky, clouds passing by. Every attempt a mistake stilted, awkward – – unreal Then I went out and looked up: And as for the first time I noticed;   the sky really doesn’t look real at all –  

Ekphrastic poetry

For those of us working in all kinds of genres: Moonrise, Aurora, Nebraska by Twyla Hansen No Ansel Adams but the snapshots we captured through the open car window on our eight megapixel cell phones on the side of the road off an exit ramp as truck taillights streaked eastbound opposite the earth’s rotation in…