3:18 6:26 6:54 MFers!
Stone on the Rocks
3:18 6:26 6:54 MFers!
Stone on the Rocks
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Address for Donations, Complaints, Brickbats, and — oh yes — Donations
My Back Pages
In Memory Of W.B. Yeats
Intellectual disgrace
Stares from every human face,
And the seas of pity lie
Locked and frozen in each eye.
Follow, poet, follow right
To the bottom of the night,
With your unconstraining voice
Still persuade us to rejoice.
With the farming of a verse
Make a vineyard of the curse,
Sing of human unsuccess
In a rapture of distress.
In the deserts of the heart
Let the healing fountains start,
In the prison of his days
Teach the free man how to praise.
– – WH Auden
from “1054 AD”
Sometimes it seems I had a dream, and, as a dreamer woke immersed in mineral baths closed within a cool, dark chamber fed by streams flowing in from the center of nowhere.
Hanging from the granite ceiling a kerosene lantern cast shards of light through the pale steam rising from the surface of the pools.
Ripples radiated outwards from the edges of my body and tapping faintly on the rock revealed the edges of the chamber.
Outside I could hear the wind slide across the spine of the mountains, speaking in a language that I remembered but could no longer understand.
Steam filled my nostrils and heat penetrated my bones until, after a time, I had no body, only a sense of silence and distance and calm.
As if I had just woken from all water into dream.
— Tassajara Zen Mountain Center, 1973
Your Say
My Thinking Hat
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Search American Digest’s Back Pages
The People Yes
The steel mill sky is alive.
The fire breaks white and zigzag
shot on a gun-metal gloaming.
Man is a long time coming.
Man will yet win.
Brother may yet line up with brother:
This old anvil laughs at many broken hammers.
There are men who can’t be bought.
The fireborn are at home in fire.
The stars make no noise,
You can’t hinder the wind from blowing.
Time is a great teacher.
Who can live without hope?
In the darkness with a great bundle of grief
the people march.
In the night, and overhead a shovel of stars for keeps, the people
march:
“Where to? what next?”
— Carl Sandberg
Camouflage
Sourdough Mountain Lookout
Down valley a smoke haze
Three days heat, after five days rain
Pitch glows on the fir-cones
Across rocks and meadows
Swarms of new flies.
I cannot remember things I once read
A few friends, but they are in cities.
Drinking cold snow-water from a tin cup
Looking down for miles
Through high still air.
BY GARY SNYDER
Chimes of Freedom
Starry-eyed an’ laughing as I recall when we were caught
Trapped by no track of hours for they hanged suspended
As we listened one last time an’ we watched with one last look
Spellbound an’ swallowed ’til the tolling ended
Tolling for the aching ones whose wounds cannot be nursed
For the countless confused, accused, misused, strung-out ones an’ worse
An’ for every hung-up person in the whole wide universe
An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing
The Vault
My Back Pages
Byzantium
That is no country for old men. The young
In one another’s arms, birds in the trees
—Those dying generations—at their song,
The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,
Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long
Whatever is begotten, born, and dies.
Caught in that sensual music all neglect
Monuments of unageing intellect.
An aged man is but a paltry thing,
A tattered coat upon a stick, unless
Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing
For every tatter in its mortal dress,
Nor is there singing school but studying
Monuments of its own magnificence;
And therefore I have sailed the seas and come
To the holy city of Byzantium.
O sages standing in God’s holy fire
As in the gold mosaic of a wall,
Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre,
And be the singing-masters of my soul.
Consume my heart away; sick with desire
And fastened to a dying animal
It knows not what it is; and gather me
Into the artifice of eternity.
Once out of nature I shall never take
My bodily form from any natural thing,
But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make
Of hammered gold and gold enamelling
To keep a drowsy Emperor awake;
Or set upon a golden bough to sing
To lords and ladies of Byzantium
Of what is past, or passing, or to come.
– – W. B. Yeats, 1865 – 1939
De Breanski
VAN GOGH
Hillegas
To the Stonecutters
Stone-cutters fighting time with marble, you foredefeated
Challengers of oblivion
Eat cynical earnings, knowing rock splits, records fall down,
The square-limbed Roman letters
Scale in the thaws, wear in the rain. The poet as well
Builds his monument mockingly;
For man will be blotted out, the blithe earth die, the brave sun
Die blind and blacken to the heart:
Yet stones have stood for a thousand years, and pained
thoughts found
The honey of peace in old poems.
— Robinson Jeffers
Real World Address for Donations, Mash Notes and Hate Mail
from “1054 AD”
Sometimes it seems I had a dream, and, as a dreamer woke immersed in mineral baths closed within a cool, dark chamber fed by streams flowing in from the center of nowhere.
Hanging from the granite ceiling a kerosene lantern cast shards of light through the pale steam rising from the surface of the pools.
Ripples radiated outwards from the edges of my body and tapping faintly on the rock revealed the edges of the chamber.
Outside I could hear the wind slide across the spine of the mountains, speaking in a language that I remembered but could no longer understand.
Steam filled my nostrils and heat penetrated my bones until, after a time, I had no body, only a sense of silence and distance and calm.
As if I had just woken from all water into dream.
— Tassajara Zen Mountain Center, 1973
Comments on this entry are closed.
10 to 1 that Clinton’s gonorrhea flared up.
Eddie and the Cruisers-
Watched for the saxophone only. Excellent sax, odd racket from lead vocal.
GV, NYC.
https://uploads.disquscdn.com/images/ec6012bd763db7c0244d927495885a43c047527210851ced610ad48dc91b4ea9.jpg
That nitwit talking about that crib was overcome by envy.
What a pathetic human.
Get a rope…
piss poor video quality
bad all the way around
https://uploads.disquscdn.com/images/f9bb03f6bb7721ac715a0302d980782f817d7df12e21a7c21e5abbbdc4311c6e.jpg
Yeah, really, I saw that too and wondered WTF?
One earring?
The other dood wasn’t much better.
2 gamma’s pretending they ain’t losers.
The interplanetary spacecraft video was well done. I worked on the Voyager and New Horizons missions. Voyager was particularly challenging. We were doing many things for the first time.
Stargazer, I am envious! I still remember reading in 2006 (quite moved to tears) when Voyager 1 passed the 100 AU mark in its journey, still functioning, still communicating, after almost 30 years. I followed New Horizons through construction, launch, its eight years of flight, and finally the hair-raising flyby of Pluto.
I am thankful to have been alive to see these things.
My father helped run the Goldstone DSN. He retired in 1992… but I remember all the photo books he was gifted for the work on tracking the Voyager, and Pioneer probes. Very cool to be a part of something so fundamentally American and human.
Always liked the song. Clearly parroting Springsteen, complete with the saxophone, sleeveless shirt, posture, and vocal style.
What to do about a dirty driveway is the ultimate 1st world problem. Not only do Americans pour drinking water on our lawns, and use it to flush toilets, we also use it to spray off bird shit off our driveway.
But… but… we’re not evil. We’re just piped that way.
You want genocide? I’ll give you some genocide!
“Thus says the Lord of hosts, ‘I have noted what Amalek did to Israel in opposing them on the way when they came up out of Egypt. Now go and strike Amalek and devote to destruction all that they have. Do not spare them, but kill both man and woman, child and infant, ox and sheep, camel and donkey.’”—1 Samuel 15:2–3
Such slaughter would cause even an Assyrian king to take note. But they were no shrinking violets themselves:
“I felled 50 of their fighting men with the sword, burnt 200 captives from them, [and] defeated in a battle on the plain 332 troops…With their blood I dyed the mountain red like red wool, [and] the rest of them the ravines [and] torrents of the mountain swallowed. I carried off captives [and] possessions from them. I cut off the heads of their fighters [and] built [therewith] a tower before their city. I burnt their adolescent boys [and] girls…In strife and conflict I besieged [and] conquered the city. I felled 3,000 of their fighting men with the sword … I captured many troops alive: I cut off of some their arms [and] hands; I cut off of others their noses, ears, [and] extremities. I gouged out the eyes of
many troops. I made one pile of the living [and] one of heads. I hung their heads on trees
around the city.”—Ashurnasirpal (883–859 B.C)
Let us not forget Genghis Khan (1155 – 1227):
“The worst thing that Genghis Khan is significant for is the deaths of about 40 million people. Throughout his conquests, Genghis employed a policy of severe cruelty if an enemy did not surrender immediately. This cruelty lead to the complete extermination of cities, meaning the executing of every man, woman, child, and even animals. There are some regions that were at the height of their civilization when the Mongols arrived, and after they left were mere wastelands. Some historians believe that there are some areas that never fully recovered from Genghis’s invasions.”
Tamerlane (1336 – 1405) killed 17 million people—5 percent of the world’s population. On his sarcophagus is written:
“When I Rise From the Dead, The World Shall Tremble.”
Joseph Stalin admired Tamerlane—but of course.
Genocide is as old as man. It will only disappear when this world ends.
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