I cannot praise a fugitive and cloistered virtue, unexercised and unbreathed, that never sallies out and sees her adversary, but slinks out of the race where that immortal garland is to be run for, not without dust and heat. [. . .] That virtue therefore which is but a youngling in the contemplation of evil, … More Milton
I decided to revisit a famous text by this poet and thought: how amazingly 15th century! And it is; in fact Manrique died before 1492 and missed the entrance of the “Indies” onto the global stage. This makes him profoundly removed or foreign, I feel, because he is at the same time so close to … More Jorge Manrique
In my parents’ books I find things from very long ago. Here my father is smoking with Robert Duncan at Sutro Baths in San Francisco. Axé.
Among books I found a 1969 letter from him that reads in part: Among my exploits this year, there was just recently—presented by the Department of Spanish and Portuguese—a Poetry Festival and Conference at Austin, Texas. Sumptuously sponsored. When Octavio Paz resigned as Ambassador to India, Texas grabbed him up. Or rather, Rodolfo Cardona, the … More Robert Duncan
Gautier went on, and wrote about a voyage to Spain in 1840. He also took a series of daguerrotypes there. It appears that he went to Spain in the hottest season because he felt this would give him the most authentic Spanish experience, and he slept in the patio of the Alhambra. This portrait resembles … More Théophile Gautier
Orig.: Wives but especially parents laughing brightly, keeping a stiff upper lip as they leave. Then, that somber drive home. Version 1: Wives, but especially parents laughing brightly, keeping a stiff upper lip as they leave. Then that somber drive home. What do you think? Axé.
The fairies were the many children old enough to walk but not talk, excited to be out trying to run and jump. Swans were gliding and posing, geese were honking, and wet turtles were in fact jumping, plop! back into the pond. … in Just- spring when the world is mud- luscious the little lame … More The park was luscious and filled with swans and fairy-like creatures
This is the song, and you should listen to it, tu le ton son ton. Tiempo tiempo. Everyone wants more time time time, all the ton son ton, and thinks that if they could only manage their time time time, everything would be done in Time. Every task I did today seemed burdensome and difficult … More Tous les temps en temps
Making poems was a way of loving things, of preserving them, of living moments twice; or more than that, it was a way of living more fully, of bestowing on experience a richer meaning. Axé.
One of my classes was talking about some letters and speeches of Simón Bolívar, and how they were about plans for the creation of a country and region that not only did not exist in the form he imagined, but would not, and how it he made it clear that he knew this. There was … More On writing, time, and absence
