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Wednesday, December 5, 2012

the news


That the world is poetry and we are poetry that light is vibrations and poetry and the very writing of poetry sends vibrations out into the universe. The silence of these vibrations are what I set out to hear when I'm walking in the morning in the snow in the low light in the grey and sometimes pink then soft blue particular to the beginning of the day in winter. One thought runs into another out there accumulating careening falling and spinning and sometimes catching light failing better we are never enough our poems are weak and falter and sometimes I think we fail to understand what a poem is for I think we lack urgency gravity a lightness I think we forget the building is burning down the universe is burning and so must we.

"What the hell are we doing? I see our mission as much larger than witnessing the material world. And it isn't to report on a twenty-years war. Twenty years? What is that? The news is that we are the universe. That's the only news there ever was; that's the only news that the poet reports that lasts. We want to hear the news. We need to hear the news."

~ Li-Young Lee






What the hell are we doing, indeed. Trying, yes. This is the proper place to begin. Again. Every time one sets out to create something, a poem, a photograph, anything, one begins from scratch. One sets higher and loftier and at times more direct, simpler, goals. One is never satisfied. One refines. Deepens one's understanding of silence and its relationship to words.

There will be obstacles. Noise. Voices. Unwelcome tasks. These will multiply.

Quiet them.

The universe is burning.





I repeat, the universe is burning. I see evidence of it every morning at sunrise.




If you've made it this far, many thanks. Once in a while I have to make notes to myself here. Remind myself of certain things.





A reminder to get out for a walk - that I don't need.  Here he is:









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