Regin Dahl died in Copenhagen on this day in 2007. His life marked several. Tín er degningur handan líkdampsins flókar. Dit er morgengryet hinsides ligdunstens tåger. Yours is the daybreak beyond the corpse-reek’s mists. His father is on a stamp and I would be curious to know more about this man than is known. When … More Regin Dahl
The ocean is large and full of currents. You wade in slowly and then strike out swimming as the sea floor falls beyond your depth. You tread water, breaking through waves to open water where you can steer your course. The first island stands on the horizon, partly shielded from view by spray and rocking … More Starting to Write is Like Swimming
I am slow, so I am late to St. Patrick’s Day. Consider this, on Leonardo da Vinci and slowness. Faster than me and sometimes premature, the Emeritus Professor sent me the poem that follows after one of my exams, I do not remember now whether it was the M.A. or the Ph.D. Only now has … More William Butler Yeats
Please note and comment – and if you can, help improve the translation. This appears to be a foundational text in the construction of whiteness. Vi, debe de haber tres días, en las gradas de San Pedro, una tenebrosa boda, porque era toda de negros. About three days ago on the steps of Saint Peter’s … More Quevedo: Boda de Negros
This is the post. Axé.
Entre el dolor y el placer median tres criaturas, de las cuales la una mira a un muro, la segunda usa de ánimo triste y la tercera avanza de puntillas; pero, entre tú y yo, sólo existen segundas criaturas. Apoyándose en mi frente, el día conviene en que, de veras, hay mucho de exacto en … More Entre el dolor y el placer
Rolling her cart across the cobblestones she sang: Pie lady! Pie lady! Sweet and savory pies For supper or dessert! This was in New Orleans the other day, but in Madrid when I was a child there were many such street vendors’ songs. I deciphered the rag man’s song and we memorized it, but there … More Pregón
I always think I ought to read fiction – novels, plays – but I like history, letters, essays, and poems. Now I am reading Jack Spicer’s After Lorca, in his collected poetry. In the same volume is a letter describing the house I wanted to live in as a child: Their house is built mainly … More Reading for Pleasure Wednesday: Jack Spicer
Friday the temperature was still dropping, and the university had decided to save money by turning off the heat. One person went home to butcher a pig for Saturday, but we came home and made lunch. To fully grasp the atmosphere you have to realize that my dining table and benches were made by local … More Feast Zero, After Which I Discuss My Inspiration Award
Do you like me? Yes, and you? Yes, yes. Cuando me quedo solo me quedan todavía tus diez años, los tres caballos ciegos, tus quince rostros con el rostro de la pedrada y las fiebres pequeñas heladas sobre las hojas del maíz. Stanton, hijo mío, Stanton. A las doce de la noche el cáncer salía … More El niño Stanton
