Saturday, December 15, 2012
Sunday, December 9, 2012
Saturday, December 8, 2012
Friday, November 30, 2012
Relentless necessity, wretchedness, distress, the crushing burdens of poverty and of labour which wears us out, cruelty, torture, violent death, constraint, disease -- all these constitute divine love. It is God who in love withdraws from us so that we can love him. But if we were exposed to the direct radiance of his love, without the protection of space, of time and of matter, we should be evaporated like water in the sun; there would not be enough "I" in us to make it possible to surrender the "I" for love's sake. Necessity is the screen set between God and us so that we can be. It is for us to pierce through the screen so that we cease to be.
Gravity and Grace
and in the margin of weil's text, the woman i love has written:
there would be no delay,
Thursday, November 29, 2012
Saturday, November 24, 2012
Thursday, November 15, 2012
Sunday, November 11, 2012
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
Saturday, October 20, 2012
Last waking in the old house, the boy watches
from an upstairs window, nodding
at the sky‘s surrender to dust from the harvest.
The restless world searches for an ending.
Congregations of blackbirds over stubble,
like mothers and fathers gleaning children
from the broken ground. Wind maims
the soft yellow trees, tearing the frail edges
of leaves, trying to sew the name of God.
He whispers his own name as if pulling a thread.
His breath fogs pale and cool on the glass,
warm on the back of his hand. It is day.
Saturday, September 22, 2012
James Owens 1904 - 1988
Jack Owens 1936 - 2003
James Owens 1963 -
Benjamin Owens 2000 -
And I know a father
Who had a son
He longed to tell him all the reasons
For the things he'd done
He came a long way
Just to explain
He kissed his boy as he lay sleeping
Then he turned around and headed home again
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Letter to James Wright from the Rocks above Bass Pond at the End of Summer
I bang fist-sized stones together. Once.
Stones cool with the smell of dirt
from lying in the ferns.
My palms love their gritty sides.
The hollow tonk plucks at air
like a first raindrop hitting a spider’s web,
the attentiveness of a word
and no content.
The solemn turkey buzzard shrugs higher.
Grey moss cracks underfoot.
Juniper and blueberry clench small.
Here wind and weak sun --
below, the fur of trees ruffles,
the pond glints,
losing track of my failures.
I will lie and wither like the moss
and rise in a year, language as hard
and unused as a scatter of pebbles,
to find my own crossed thighbones here,
to knock together for prayer.
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Ein Wort, ein Satz—: aus Chiffren steigen
erkanntes Leben, jäher Sinn,
die Sonne steht, die Sphären schweigen
und alles ballt sich zu ihm hin.
Ein Wort—ein Glanz, ein Flug, ein Feuer,
ein Flammenwurf, ein Sternenstrich—-
und wieder Dunkel, ungeheuer,
im leeren Raum um Welt und Ich.
A word, a phrase -- from ciphers climb
Known life, sudden sense.
The sun stops, spheres no longer chime,
All thickens around, dark and dense.
A word, a gleam, a flight, a spark,
A thrust of flame, star-strike on the sky --
Then again the enormous dark
And empty space around world and I.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Sunday, September 2, 2012
Einsamer nie als im August:
die roten und die goldenen Brände,
doch wo ist deiner Gärten Lust?
Die Seen hell, die Himmel weich,
die Äcker rein und glänzen leise,
doch wo sind Sieg und Siegsbeweise
aus dem von dir vertretenen Reich?
Wo alles sich durch Glück beweist
und tauscht den Blick und tauscht die Ringe
im Weingeruch, im Rausch der Dinge—:
dienst du dem Gegenglück, dem Geist.
Never more lonely than in August:
This fulfilled hour, the land
Is red brand after golden brand --
But is your garden’s longing lost?
The clear lakes, a tender gleam
Of sky, the fields softly shine,
But where is triumph and its sign
From your far, native realm?
Though happiness is the proof others find,
Exchanging glances, exchanging rings
In the aroma of wine, a drunkenness of things,
You serve a contrary joy, the mind.