[A Short Story] 500 years ago this August, on the 9th day, Hieronymus Bosch was buried. Where was he buried? I imagine you ask. I say, I imagine, to you, as I make it up in mind, "I do not know where he was buried. In fact, I am not even sure if he died on the 9th … Continue reading Hieronymus Bosch Comes to Madrid [flash]
[A Short-short Story] A man not so unlike any other man . . . any man who may or may not be like me . . . and I recall realizing that I was exactly like my father in every way that I was different from him . . . different from any other man … Continue reading When You Become Other than Who You Are, and Where
On Tuesday, July 26, 2016, the US Army Corps of Engineers (“USACE”) approved the water crossing permits for the Dakota Access Pipeline, proposed to carry fracked oil from the Bakken fields in North… Source: Coalition Support of Tribal Lawsuits Against US Army Corps Permits for the Dakota Access Pipeline
A crazy man speaks of his having discovered he was crazy in a world far madder than he, or so he wants you to think, thus believe, know in a way other than how others know the things they say they know for certain, what he says he was, what he says he has … Continue reading [poem]
"The cliche goes that a little knowledge is a dangerous thing, but even more dangerous than that is more and more knowledge without a corresponding wisdom," she said. Facts are facts never in themselves knowledge, arranged and collected as we often do, inarticulately. Knowledge in itself is never wisdom. Let us live wisely seems another … Continue reading You Can Hurt You A Lot
A man telling a story to another man At a bar in Brooklyn Sometime in the mid eighties or nineties, I think maybe I have conflated the persons Who were the principal actors in this recollection From when I was either three or two decades younger. I convey this in memory of our fathers, Of … Continue reading What is Past is Prologue [Poem]
She . . . I have heard it said in these and in other words that everything we think is all and only words, everything only a word. There are no things except but for words, I have heard and I have said; yes, words, ours, and words more, ours . . . ours of … Continue reading Than All the Books [short fiction]
Looming, a word, a word I say, not just any word, this word in particular for the thing I name, am naming, what I do and what I am doing not the same thing, time, tense, aspect. Things in themselves only things, nameless things, how do we hold onto to our things, what do our … Continue reading November in My Soul
What else do you need but the essay to read? I will not give you a synopsis to take with you to then pretend you have read what you should have read without any help from me other than the words themselves here by the couple of thousand . . . a story , polemically expressed, particularly in response to recent currents in the American national political arena, most specifically in relation to the way we elect our presidents—President being a Title for the person holding the Office of the Presidency, perhaps the most important and influential office in world—but also with commentary on how ridiculously out of touch We the People of the United States are with respect to our needs and our interests, politically and otherwise, mostly with how we misread power from whichever side of the political coin we have invested our love of chance upon, with perhaps an oblique reference or two for how much we love to play ping pong with our national politics, as much as we are enthrall with playing hop-scotch with the Truth, yes, capital ‘T’ . . .
What then should I say? What then can I say? What is it that I know? Facts, facts and more facts–give me nothing but facts, or so we could say Mr Gradgrind would say . . . did say in similar words, I remember Hard Times, he says. He says, Ours is another call for needful things. The one truly needful thing in our world, our culture, our country, this civilization of ours–whose civilization is it? How long is this civilization? He asks in earnest.
I have not disbanded with older notions of what our civilization has been, he says, what it has meant or could have meant in face of what it has never meant, he goes on, even if it tried to mean it for itself, he says. He says, Now the highest wisdom is Doubt.Yes, give us doubt and nothing else but doubt. Doubt, doubt and more…
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From among the allegedly amazing people who follow my blog herein, how many have ordered a copy of my poetry collection, Land's End? Just asking. Because if you follow because you like, that should be appreciated, but then how appreciative should I be when your money is not put where your index presses. Sorry my many nameless … Continue reading A Message to My Followers