Posted on: April 1, 2009
Spring Comes to Lake Shanghai, by Wu Li. 17th Century
It’s been a long winter. Like winter would never leave. Ever leave. Even though it was fairly mild where I live, the mood was winter for a long time. The mind of winter. The soul of cold. Perhaps it’s the state of the world. The economy. The cultural and political fights. Endless and ultimately boring. Perhaps. That said, spring is here and just in nick of time.
By the way, who is this Nick character and what did he do with Chronos?
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We have two new sets of poems on tap: Doreen LeBlanc and Sean Howard grace our pages again.
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Posted on: March 31, 2009
modern moments (main-à-dieu, nova scotia)
sun & cloud (reproduction)
bright
band, slow mov–
ing, copy–
ing
the
sea
nest (goodyear)
rock–
weed, dulse &
sorrel, moss a–
round the
tire
night journey (disconnect)
shoot–
ing star,
far
cry, jet st–
reams in
the
bay
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Posted on: February 2, 2009
Lev Tolstoy, by Repin. 1887
What has it? What brings it? What gives meaning to our existence in the here and now? The afterlife? Paradoxes aside, the search for meaning has meaning itself, above and beyond any cleverness in the equation. To express that meaning, however, has become problematic in our late date — our cynical, jaded, post-post-guileless world. Post-guileless in the sense that we no longer can stop self-referencing or self-consciousness enough to just be. Enough to let be be the finale of seem, to borrow a brilliant phrase from Wallace Stevens.
It’s hip to search for meaning without letting others really know. It’s hep to mock the attempt. It’s cool to stand above the silly masses striving to do the right thing … Believe, believe in what they do, accept that life really does have a purpose in the here and now, beyond the here and now!…
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