Archive for September, 2009

May you know that absence is full of tender presence and that nothing is ever lost or forgotten. May the absences in your life be full of eternal echo May you sense around you the secret Elsewhere which holds the presences that have left your life. May you be generous in your embrace of loss. […]


Humans have an uncanny ability to domesticate everything they touch. Eventually, even the strangest things become absorbed into the routine of the daily mind with its steady geographies of endurance, anxiety and contentment. Only seldom does the haze lift, and we glimpse for a second, the amazing plenitude of being here. Sometimes, unfortunately, it is […]


The time will come when, with elation you will greet yourself arriving at your own door, in your own mirror and each will smile at the other’s welcome, and say, sit here. Eat. You will love again the stranger who was your self. Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart to itself, to the […]


After a while you learn the subtle difference between holding a hand and chaining a soul and you learn that love doesn’t mean leaning and company doesn’t always mean security. And you begin to learn that kisses aren’t contracts and presents aren’t promises and you begin to accept your defeats with your head up and […]


Mark Strand

21Sep09

And if it happens that you cannot go on or turn back and you find yourself where you will be at the end, tell yourself in that final flowing of cold through your limbs that you love what you are. – Mark Strand, Lines for Winter It is the same wherever you are, the same […]


what we do in the dark has no hands. no crossover effect, no good-bye kiss after the alarm. what we carry in, we carry out, end of story. this doesn’t even want to be love. except in minutes when your face has the shape of my palm and I think lungful. let want out with […]


Look, the trees are turning their own bodies into pillars of light, are giving off the rich fragrance of cinnamon and fulfillment, the long tapers of cattails are bursting and floating away over the blue shoulders of the ponds, and every pond, no matter what its name is, is nameless now. Every year everything I […]