Something Wonderful: It’s a Spring day and this is all you’ll need of Internet for the duration.
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WHEN in the course of human Events, it becomes necessary….
Welcome to the New American Digest: 2003-2020
Gerard Van der Leun
Lay down these words
Before your mind like rocks.
placed solid, by hands
In choice of place, set
Before the body of the mind
in space and time:
Solidity of bark, leaf, or wall
riprap of things:
Cobble of milky way.
straying planets,
These poems, people,
lost ponies with
Dragging saddles –
and rocky sure-foot trails.
The worlds like an endless
four-dimensional
Game of Go.
ants and pebbles
In the thin loam, each rock a word
a creek-washed stone
Granite: ingrained
with torment of fire and weight
Crystal and sediment linked hot
all change, in thoughts,
As well as things.
Gary Snyder
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.
We think by feeling. What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Of those so close beside me, which are you?
God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,
And learn by going where I have to go.
Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?
The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Great Nature has another thing to do
To you and me; so take the lively air,
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.
This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.
What falls away is always. And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I learn by going where I have to go.
— BY THEODORE ROETHKE
The scientists are in terror
and the European mind stops
Wyndham Lewis chose blindness
rather than have his mind stop.
Night under wind mid garofani,
the petals are almost still
Mozart, Linnaeus, Sulmona,
When one’s friends hate each other
how can there be peace in the world?
Their asperities diverted me in my green time.
A blown husk that is finished
but the light sings eternal
a pale flare over marshes
where the salt hay whispers to tide’s change
Time, space,
neither life nor death is the answer.
And of man seeking good,
doing evil.
In meiner Heimat
where the dead walked
and the living were made of cardboard.
His soul stretched tight across the skies
That fade behind a city block,
Or trampled by insistent feet
At four and five and six o’clock;
And short square fingers stuffing pipes,
And evening newspapers, and eyes
Assured of certain certainties,
The conscience of a blackened street
Impatient to assume the world.
I am moved by fancies that are curled
Around these images, and cling:
The notion of some infinitely gentle
Infinitely suffering thing.
Wipe your hand across your mouth, and laugh;
The worlds revolve like ancient women
Gathering fuel in vacant lots.
— Eliot
I CELEBRATE myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
I loafe and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.
My tongue, every atom of my blood, form’d from this soil, this
air,
Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their
parents the same,
I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin,
Hoping to cease not till death.
— Walt Whitman
Comments on this entry are closed.
Gerard,
We all hope you enjoyed your Spring day!
In the Poconos we had temps in the 20s, blustering gusts of up to 25 mph from the north, bringing the wind chill factor to what I refer to as harsh. We also enjoyed intermittent snow-squalls. It is not quite Spring yet.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I am okay with Winter. I actually like Winter….until around the end of February. At this point, my desire is to get my hands in the garden soil to plant the summer crops. Can’t even stick a spade in the soil yet. Froze solid. Come on, Spring!
Same here, but different. Snowed yesterday and today, temps in the teens and windchill below zero. I’m ready for some sprang! I played the vid and Shannon came runnin’, howling the whole time.
It’s a signal I’ve taught her and my previous mutts, from an early age. I say, “WHERE’S THAT GURL?”, then I let loose with a long, mournful howl. No matter where she is on the property she comes a flyin’. Without exception she is always rewarded with a cookie and my left pocket always has plenty.
Cute kid! Operatic beagle!
I’m still waiting for some woke millennial to realize that her kid’s musical toy keeps playing Old Black Joe.
Hey Rob, if he’s playing Old Black Joe over and over, would that make him a One Note Sambo? Sorry. I will just be leaving now.
Clearly very late to piling on here, but your “Spring Day” seemed too easily come by for a man who might still shed a tear for his graysunk Seattle brethren.
I do shed a tear for my comrades in Seattle and then say, hey, with ee cummings:
Get moving.
That’s certainly the dream, but we’ll be sopping up gravy from this particular train for a while yet.
Meanwhile, vacations.
Excellent and one does not leave a gravy train lightly. Still, remember the first thing to do when seeing incoming….. GET OFF THE X.