un occhio di stelle
sometimes a writer plagues me, like sappho when she says, "mete moi meli mete melissa" (i'd write the greek, but i'm lazy). she is saying, "i don't want the honey or the bee." funny, some proverbs just don't travel. i suppose that this relates to the fact that honey was the sweetner in ancient times, and yet the bee is not near as pleasant as the honey, so since she is stating that she will take neither, she is saying that she does not want the bad things that come along with the good things. damn bees! i was just reading about them last night in virgil's georgics. (actually, i like bees. they signal to me a healthy landscape. the plants need the bees.)
one can tell that i'm rambling tonight. i've been reading some classics lately since i haven't received any new books to review in the past week or two, which is probably good for now since i've been too busy to read them.
on another note, npr had a post this morning about suburbanities weighing more than city dwellers. i can't say that such news (if it can be called news) surprised me, yet i wish they would cover some of the other differences between living in the city vs the country, like some of the environmental costs of sprawl. in the long run, even though i donate to green charities, live in a city, volunteer for the green party (occasionally, but that's another story), and am a veggie person, i still am alive and using goods. i'm a polluter who spends his late night hours glancing over ungaretti and sappho. che barba!
in some way this all ties back into poetry. poesis is a means of creating. i'm not sure that it creates an answer to the problem as much as it creates questions. perhaps it just creates alternate pictures or perhaps just a confused bunch of lines that lead in diverse directions.
"terror enlarges the object." as soon as i figure out what the object is, i'll explain.
a storm is coming, and a baby is crying, scared awake most likely by the sound of tree limbs on the side of the building.
sometimes a writer plagues me, like sappho when she says, "mete moi meli mete melissa" (i'd write the greek, but i'm lazy). she is saying, "i don't want the honey or the bee." funny, some proverbs just don't travel. i suppose that this relates to the fact that honey was the sweetner in ancient times, and yet the bee is not near as pleasant as the honey, so since she is stating that she will take neither, she is saying that she does not want the bad things that come along with the good things. damn bees! i was just reading about them last night in virgil's georgics. (actually, i like bees. they signal to me a healthy landscape. the plants need the bees.)
one can tell that i'm rambling tonight. i've been reading some classics lately since i haven't received any new books to review in the past week or two, which is probably good for now since i've been too busy to read them.
on another note, npr had a post this morning about suburbanities weighing more than city dwellers. i can't say that such news (if it can be called news) surprised me, yet i wish they would cover some of the other differences between living in the city vs the country, like some of the environmental costs of sprawl. in the long run, even though i donate to green charities, live in a city, volunteer for the green party (occasionally, but that's another story), and am a veggie person, i still am alive and using goods. i'm a polluter who spends his late night hours glancing over ungaretti and sappho. che barba!
in some way this all ties back into poetry. poesis is a means of creating. i'm not sure that it creates an answer to the problem as much as it creates questions. perhaps it just creates alternate pictures or perhaps just a confused bunch of lines that lead in diverse directions.
"terror enlarges the object." as soon as i figure out what the object is, i'll explain.
a storm is coming, and a baby is crying, scared awake most likely by the sound of tree limbs on the side of the building.
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