Month: August 2017
on reading books by Ezra Pound
“No man understands a deep book until he has seen and lived at least part of its contents.”
“… the argument has always been that those who choose the lesser evil forget very quickly that they chose evil.”
from The Art of Quotation
“Politically, the weakness of the argument has always been that those who choose the lesser evil forget very quickly that they chose evil.”
Hannah Arendt, writer, philosopher
parenting
sitting in the café
my morning ritual
a child of six
wanders up to the bar
tattoos on both arms
a balloon in hand
parenting I think
in need of repair
because I’ve been lighting candles every day here thousands of miles away for my departed
I’ve been sleeping lately looking for a dream the place familiar my dog there and my father though neither knew the other both having lived decades apart my mother is cooking I can smell her sauce simmering my grandmother is kneading dough for her cavatelli Johnny and I both get a piece to roll in […]
Emerald Twilight: “Take only memories, leave nothing but footprints.”
A translation from the Turkish by Rukiye Uçar on her blog FORGOTTEN HOPES.
That Love is Over... That love is over, the cries of the seagulls have stopped It is over like the water, over like against the water The thing that we call the sea has pushed the coast away We both forgot all sorts of discontentedness My eyes lost in gambling Her eyes lost in gambling. It is as if the woods got windy in our chest The trees moved away from each other The trees got closer to each other That is, every time we breathe Your heart like a shuttle My heart like its shuttle Processed this absence again and again. What's left I don't know if you are aware The days... The days have gotten smaller. *Translated by Rukiye Uçar...
Bitti O Sevda…
Bitti o sevda kesildi çığlıkları martıların
Su gibi bitti, suya karşıt gibi bitti
İtti kıyıyı adına deniz dediğimiz şey
Unuttuk ikimiz de her türlü yetinmezliği
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my absence continued
due to unforeseen circumstances and what could only be considered irony, i continue to remain outside my home: in Sofia, Bulgaria with eyes gazing longingly toward the south
the things we carry
the things we carry
are the things
that won’t let go
Leonard Durso 