Tuesday, March 10, 2009
This New England winter is grinding on for what seems like forever. Whit sent word this morning that a letter from Ted had arrived. Snowed in in Milbridge, ME. Battling snow drifts with his cane the quarter mile to Bloomside from the main house, so as not to let his correspondence slacken. On a manual typewriter.
Reading Whalen again this morning I came across this...
"And to all my friends a secret unheard message:
I'm always afraid you'll find out I love you
Then you'll hate me. How much does this matter, anymore?"
Full moon tonight. Not that that means anything here. Because it's overcast. Has been for days.
The lines leading up to the quoted passage go...
"And to those admirers of my work who find me an unpleasant man
Remember I am a harvested field
Winter orchard beehive
And to all my friends a secret unheard message..."
The new issue of TIGHT is out. E-Mail me for directions.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
This week I've been thinking about.
"The art of our necessites is strange
and can make vile things precious."
- Lear, Act 3. sc.2
"you don't/turn it on but allow it to surface"
- Clark Coolidge, On the Light
"Material has to do with sensibility."
- Richard Serra
"The always revisiting
yet another vision"
- Ronald Johnson (from The Shrubberies)