I am my own true fit and counterfeit, true gold and fool’s gold, their opposition not surviving this life’s intricacy, neither driving out each other’s other What am I to make of myself but ceaseless forming of unresolvable formlessness, sometimes shameless in its heated heaving sometimes weighted with patient blind waiting? In possessing myself, I dispossess myself of myself, pass into passing, leaving behind trinkets that mark a path beyond my own way of remembrances “Am I or am I not?” becomes the sea of “was” or “was not,”, time’s own shoreless “be” ... read more
Slant is how best it goes when it knows not wither or why it goes, truth or not ruth, entertainment or catastrophe, yet slant’s elusive as firmament’s first fire was there a first photon or were all and awe then self-entangled, then, as now , caught in the net of nothing stretched impossibly to bear being beyond themselves, ah, light yes light, this light, slant, makes sight and shadow the worrisome wisdom of our delight, the fierce fervor of our burgeoning fright as climate changes, so our climax, too my self, illusion, to itself is slight and slant as well, star, lost in its own... read more
In Brazilian Portuguese the samba is the sonnet, lovely lazy lively lilt slipping through shoulders, hips, lips, toes, hands to be breath and so smooth how time flowers Before there were any words, Jobim made sun, sand, sea, saudade, me, and the girl who was completely sound without need of flesh, she of the slightest stirrings of our air No knowing now, ever, how samba means outside itself, except it lilts us let go grip of grasping selves, dance with shadows sculpted from blocking light of this, this… life ah, sway, syncopated, counting deeper sweeter than any beat, more…less... read more
What is our responsibility to the dead? Only the care of all that lives. This is a sentiment that strikes me as strange but true, not one that I would have expected to discover within my breast in my heart when I was younger. It connects me with the ancestor worship that is so fundamental because we owe everything to our ancestors without whom we would not be. The sun, too, is our ancestor, that young star by whose light we... read more
