a curatorial content blog of modern and contemporary poetry, poetics, photography, philosophy, permaculture, and the arts

Source: Nobel Laureate Louise Glück on Teaching and Poetry | Office of the President

Source: Dokodemo Sento – The Japanese Bath Houses

palominos–
curve of the winter hills
in moonlight

Cherie Hunter Day

dandelion …
a deep breath
and then a puff
– Lucia Cardillo

treeline
the crows nestling
into darkness
– Mike Gallagher

repeating
the loss in words
bird songs in the morning
– Gary Hotham

Source: Issue #2 – March/April 2021 – tsuri-dōrō – a small journal of haiku and senryū

Cold in hand blues

e cos’è che dirai
dirò solamente qualcosa
e cos’è che farai
mi nasconderò nel linguaggio
e perché
ho paura

***

Sotto il mio vestito ardeva un campo dai fiori allegri come i bambini della mezzanotte.

Il soffio della luce nelle mie ossa quando scrivo la parola terra. Parola o presenza seguita da animali profumati; triste come se stessa, bella come il suicidio; e che mi sorvola come una dinastia di soli.

Cold in hand blues

and what are you going to say
I’ll just say something
and what you will do
I’ll hide in the language
and why
I’m scared

***

Under my dress a field of flowers burned as happy as midnight children.

The breath of light in my bones when I write the word earth. Word or presence followed by scented animals; sad as herself, as beautiful as suicide; and that flies over me like a dynasty of suns.

Alejandra Pizarnik
from The Daughter of Insomnia

English Google translation

Source: “ fuga in lilla ” – Alejandra Pizarnik – vengodalmare

There should be a church of the dialectic in which the only altar is a long dinner table with a lot of chairs, and all that would be worshipped there would be the living, changing quality of what we call “the world.” The sacrament would be that the congregation eats, as Hegel would call it, the “love feast,” which is a better phrase for “dinner.” Bread and wine and whatever else would never be mere symbols (not mere ideas, but also not without idea), nor food reduced to biological function (not merely what is to be tasted and transformed by digestion, but still definitely food). Instead, the congregation would have to at every meal, as they have all committed to eat and share with love, confront the wonder that the object of religious devotion (the meal), and of carnal satisfaction (the meal), and of community love (the meal), is always anticipated in the mind, coming together, appearing to the senses via the body, splitting apart, sating them, fleeing them, ceasing to be itself, promising in the next day to be a new version which in turn transforms in multiple, contradictory ways. Eating dinner at a long table this way, the complexities of which far exceed what I’ve described in this paragraph — think of the dialectical potential of cooking the meal and the sacrament of cleaning up after! — would be sufficient religion to occupy the entire life of a community.

Source: “something divine was promised and it melted away in the mouth” – M I R A B I L A R Y