I don’t try to be prophetic, as I don’t sit down to write literature. It is simply this: a writer has to take all the risks of putting down what he sees. No one can tell him about that. No one can control that reality. It reminds me of something Pablo Picasso was supposed to have said to Gertrude Stein while he was painting her portrait. Gertrude said, I don’t look like that. And Picasso replied, You will. And he was right.
Month: June 2015
why sleep
I sleep
to see you
again
James Thurber on the difference between English & American humor
Well someone once wrote a definition of the difference between English and American humor. I wish I could remember his name. I thought his definition very good. He said that the English treat the commonplace as if it were remarkable and the Americans treat the remarkable as if it were commonplace. I believe that’s true of humorous writing. Years ago we did a parody of Punch in which Benchley did a short piece depicting a wife bursting into a room and shouting, “The primroses are in bloom!”–treating the commonplace as remarkable, you see. In “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty” I tried to treat the remarkable as commonplace.
in these dreams
in these dreams
they come
family friends
in places
so long ago
comforting enough
to resist
awakening
when knowing
only in these dreams
will all of them
be there
cake
it’s not
making it
through the day
that’s difficult
but
getting up
in the morning
the rest is
as they say
cake
because it bears a reposting: This Journey by Nazım Hikmet
We open doors,
close doors,
pass through doors,
and reach at the end of our only journey
no city,
no harbor—
the train derails,
the ship sinks
the plane crashes.
The map is drawn on ice.
But if I could
begin this journey all over again,
I would.
translated by Randy Blasing & Mutlu Konuk
some things in life
we should
understand
that there are
some things
we meet
in life
we will never
understand
your pictures
there must be
a reason
I keep
your pictures
on my shelves
but at times
like these
it eludes
me
4:45am, June 11, 2015, in Maltepe
I stare
at lights
burning
on islands
in the sea
and listen
to the echo
of the call
to prayer
still reverberating
in my ears
The Fastness by Paul Blackburn
To stand there in the dimness with a robe on
I shake loose the feelings your eyes have
under your lids in a moment of intimacy
another dim time wheeling over you, it’s
no business of mine
what you wear under your robe
or what the hour is.
And don’t tell me,
your eyes
keep saying that.
Leonard Durso 