A Momentary Taste of Being

As through some distorting lens my eye cannot see what is there but only what sits heavy in my chest--dark pluton of ancient choices, thoughts formed in the furnace and through time warped and bent and changed and turned and now looking new--but so so old--the ore of the idol that called Moses down from Sinai to cast the new law to the ground. If only I could open up to devour this excess--like earth consumed Aaron's handiwork. That this core of mine would vanish, resolve, change itself-- the crooked lines made straight and my darkness light.

He spreads  his hands to any who will take him  and his face is  wreathed in smiles at the slightest provocation. Slight paraphase of a description by Louise (Taft's mother)of WHT as a baby-- quoted in Doris Kearns Goodwin, The Bully Pulpit)

Not the days, not the nights, not the ocean, not the waves not the sky, not the clouds in it

You haunt me--you fill my head with snapshots of you I should not see--they boil and seethe within the limitless confused  molten furnace. You say things that cannot be unheard and like obscene petroglyphs they litter the landscape on either side of the molten frenzy that is the core of who I am--its banks and curves unknown and too dangerous to explore on my own-- and there you stand, naked and grinning and poised for the dive into oblivion I am powerless to stop--you haunt me. (4/27/15)

I Good Wace tells us that Constantine to Totnes came and thereby hangs the tale. II What would the world be if not for the Duke of Tintagel's wife?

Sorry bud but what you got is a dude older than he thought he'd ever live to be who doesn't wear a raincoat because in Florida's tropical downpour raincoat paper bag about the same thing, and if he did would never consider cleaning it because hell didn't the rainwater just do that who walks into a bookstore sees your name on the cover and plunks down an obscene amount of cash to be able to open the book with his morning coffee. Sorry man, better luck next time. My writing   Poetry   Drafts

If simplicity of living is a valid principle, there is one important precaution and condition of its application. I can explain it best by something which Mahatma Gandhi said to me. We were talking about simple living, and I said that it was easy for me to give up most things but that I had a greedy mind and wanted to keep my many books. He said, 'Then don't give them up. As long as you derive inner help and comfort from anything, you should keep it. If you were to give it up in a mood of self-sacrifice or out of a stern sense of duty, you would continue to want it back, and that unsatisfied want would make trouble for you. Only give up a thing when you want some other condition so much that the thing no longer has any attraction for you, or when it seems to interfere with that which is more greatly desired. Richard Gregg, 1936

I saw a five star Met Opera cast and staging presenting what seemed to be little more than a two star opera. Some of the music was wonderful, but most of the characters were nitwits, hotheads, or amoral monsters.