Posts Tagged ‘ shamanism ’

The cosmopolitics of Herzog’s bears |

On Timothy Treadwell and Shamanism

Source: The cosmopolitics of Herzog’s bears |

Santa Is a Psychedelic Mushroom


A fly agaric mushroom in western Germany. CreditLino Mirgeler/DPA, via Agence France-Presse — Getty Images

It’s time to embrace the shamanistic side of Christmas.

By MATTHEW SALTON on Publish Date December 21, 2017. Photo by Matthew Salton.

Santa Is a Psychedelic Mushroom | The New York Times

Poems and Poetics: Outsider Poems, a Mini-Anthology in Progress (52): Essie Parish in New York

Poems and Poetics: Outsider Poems, a Mini-Anthology in Progress (52): Essie Parish in New York.

Joel Weishaus “The Lost Way of Stones: A Pre-Text Regarding Rcck Art”

Joel Weishaus “The Lost Way of Stones: A Pre-Text Regarding Rcck Art”.

~ hearty thanks to Anny Ballardi

Anne-Adele Wight, Andy Goldsworthy, et al ~ at the circuit boards

It’s  Sunday Morning; also the title of a poem by Wallace Stevens, in which he wrote ~

Is there no change of death in paradise? /  Does ripe fruit never fall? Or do the boughs /
Hang always heavy in that perfect sky, / Unchanging, yet so like our perishing earth, /
With rivers like our own that seek for seas / They never find, . . . 

By seeing and reading about the art works of Andy Goldsworthy, called by him, earth works, I discovered time as rhythm*, the first image – the shadow – a gondola made of wasp paper carrying words through water to make a first poem’s soundings; the Chauvet cave’s Megaloceros Gallery for human kind’s first paintings, of animals they hunted, ate, worshipped for their life-giving powers, and loved beyond death – the shamanistic, enlivening power of art, as felt in the poems of Clayton Eshleman’s Juniper Fuse, through Timothy Treadwell’s shaman eyeballs as depicted in the lens of filmmaker Werner Herzog, in Grizzly Man. To love life is to love death, inseparable as they are. Who is to know any one individual’s interrelationships with bread and wine, one’s own intestinal pathways, fingernails bitten to bits by bitumen nightmares, better than the Other(s), within?

To come into another artist’s or poet’s work, is to be changed by it, transported, confounded, brought back to life by it. I am currently reading Anne-Adele Wight’s new poetry collection, Sidestep Catapult, wherein I’ve devised a delightful game of hide and seek with a stranger, through neuronic rootfields of color within and without, pausing at the sound of Roethke’s ordnungs, bypassing Woodlawn Cemetery on the way to the mall, finding there those lost on pilgrimage toward the newest wrappings of  that stink bug love. When I am out of breath, her poems wait for me. Despite worst fluorescent-lit possibilities, greed gambled oil platforms, aberrations of feeling, I discover these are within pages, pages and pages of new imagination, native intelligence, richter scale language, of someone behind the night singing yes and singing no. Yet singing. I would have liked to share here a stanza or a couplet or two, but these poems do not easily break apart and we, we are the chorus. ~ yours truly, df

front cover art of Sidestep Catapult

Betwixt and Between: America’s Liminal Period, Or: That’s the Way the Paradigm Crumbles « What I Meant to Say



Betwixt and Between: America’s Liminal Period, Or: That’s the Way the Paradigm Crumbles « What I Meant to Say.

Meet the man who lived with wolves /



Meet the man who lived with wolves – Pets. Animals. –

Donna Fleischer / rhythm


entering the elemental realm with sculptor andy goldsworthy — a film about his earth works. i feel words for the first time. for something pre-verbal, semiotic ­­—sadly, living in the man-made world is making me sick. how to live less in it?


the sculptor says, in rivers and tides that the tides teach one about time. he breathes in the natural world. doesn’t use the word real. doesn’t need to.


i imagine a tigris and euphrates moon. shifting silt. menses. our deeper history, before hierarchy; remember gaston bachelard’s poetics of space — that the seashell is also nature anticipating the human ear; knowing of postmodern shaman timothy treadwell’s love for the brown bear, thanks to werner herzog.


the way to feeling. the shape of it. how it takes time. takes us to cavedepth being. ponder clayton eshleman’s juniper fuse to write


art enlivens. if you let it into your life,
as marauder. to be at one with the mystery,
an unlonely presence in absence, of what is
loved, what lost. the paleolithic
imagination reaching for the human it will
become, for its own shadow, through art,
its will, its desire for survival.


pure love
Ofili’s elephant dung
with Madonna


*Artist Chris Ofili, lived and worked with elephants in Thailand where he grew to know and love them. I  feel that he integrated their dung into his paintings in much the same way iconographers embellished objects of devotion with gold leaf.

Donna Fleischer