Showing posts from July, 2013
A couple of reviews of my book: 


Bloody hell, the world's turned
upside down

the flame tree has become

my coral bed has grown
into a tree

the hummingbird you hammered
to the wall

though tin, could any moment
turn and flee.  

The yellow sky has gone
all roundabout

and clover threes where
seaweed used to be

and blood blossoms with fire,
the powers below grow higher --

if things turn right-way-up
will the falling fire stop?

The wave is in the hill
the nest abandons me
and all the reddened earth is still


via Poetry, May, 2012

...It has happened that we have been afflicted with a basic deprivation, to such an extent that we seem to be missing some vital organs, even as we try to survive somehow.  Theology, science, philosophy, though they attempt to provide cures, are not very effective "in that dark world where gods have lost their way" (Roethke).  They are able at best to confirm that our affliction is not invented....

Poetry is quite different.  By its very nature it says: All those theories are untrue.  Since poetry deals with the singular, it cannot --- if it is good poetry --  look at things of this earth other than as colorful, variegated, and exciting, and so, it cannot reduce life, with all its pain, horror, suffering, and ecstasy, to a unified tonality of boredom or complaint.  By necessity poetry is therefore on the side of being, and against nothingness.   - Milosz