Summers on Foss

The Narrowing Gyre

Memoriam:GKF


White Owl Flies Into and Out of the Field


(House of Light- Mary Oliver)

Erin McKean: Redefining the dictionary

He who has kissed a leaf
need look no further.
William Carlos Williams

Digital Mantras

The Writer's Freedom

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Edge of Maine Gallery written in binary code

Slow Blog

season of no bungling

VARIATIONS
III. Spring

The dogwood
lights up the day.

The April moon
flakes the night.

Birds, suddenly,
are a multitude

The flowers are ravined
by bees, the fruit blossoms

are thrown to the ground, the wind
the rain forces everything. Noise-

even the night is drummed
by whippoorwills, and we get

as busy, we plow, we move,
we break out, we love. The secret

which got lost neither hides
nor reveals itself, it shows forth
tokens. And we rush
to catch up. The body

whips the soul. In its great desire
it demands the elixir
In the roar of spring,
transmutations. Envy

drags herself off. The fault of the body and the soul
-that they are not one-

the matutinal clock clangs
and singleness: we salute you

season of no bungling

Charles Olson

“I take space to be the central fact to man born in America. I spell it large because it comes large here. Large and without mercy.”

The Vatic

of rhythm is image

It is, what the dream told me
(you will remember): of rhythm is image
of image is knowing
of knowing there is
a construct

Postmodern Culture

Fireworks

Charles Olson

“Whatever you have to say, leave the roots on, let them dangle, And the dirt, Just to make clear where they come from.”

Singing To Females Makes Male Birds' Brains Happy

feather

E ROSe

Happy 62nd Robert

At Dan & Lisa's