practicus |
job interviews in many ways resemble religious ceremonies. everyone
wears their Sunday best. it's also necessary to know something about a
ceremony before taking part in it. who'll be pr...
Posted by on Tue, 02 Jun 2009 21:19:00 GMT |
Sweet Darkness |
When your eyes are tiredthe world is tired also.
When your vision has goneno part of the world can find
you.
Time to go into the darkwhere the night has eyesto
recognize its own.
...
Posted by on Wed, 21 Jan 2009 21:00:00 GMT |
Poppies In October |
Poppies In Octoberby Sylvia Plath..tr>Even the sun-clouds this morning cannot manage such skirts.Nor the woman in the ambulanceWhose red heart blooms through her coat so astoundingly ----A gift, a lov...
Posted by on Sun, 05 Oct 2008 17:28:00 GMT |
Of Mere Being |
Of Mere Being The palm at the end of the mind, Beyond the last thought, rises In the bronze distance. A gold-feathered bird Sings in the palm, without human meaning, Without human feeling, a forei...
Posted by on Wed, 27 Aug 2008 10:40:00 GMT |
Stings |
StingsBare-handed, I hand the combs. The man in white smiles, bare-handed, Our cheesecloth gauntlets neat and sweet, The throats of our wrists brave lilies. He and I Have a thousand clean cells betwe...
Posted by on Sat, 12 Jul 2008 11:18:00 GMT |
Flight of the Garuda |
Song Four: Initiation into the Nature of Mind EHMAHO! Again, my beloved sons and daughters, gather round and listen! During the analysis and examination of your minds in the manner described above, w...
Posted by on Thu, 06 Dec 2007 10:46:00 GMT |
What We Need is Here... |
Geese appear high over us,pass, and the sky closes. Abandon,as in love or sleep, holdsthem to their way, clearin the ancient faith: what we needis here. And we pray, notfor new earth or heaven, but to...
Posted by on Wed, 24 Oct 2007 06:07:00 GMT |
Evening |
Evening Slowly the evening changes into the clothes held for it by a row of ancient trees; you look: and two worlds grow separate from you, one ascending to heaven, another, that falls; ...
Posted by on Tue, 23 Oct 2007 20:59:00 GMT |
Years |
Years They enter as animals from the outer Space of holly where spikes Are not thoughts I turn on, like a Yogi, But greenness, darkness so pure They freeze and are. O God, I am not like you I...
Posted by on Tue, 23 Oct 2007 08:54:00 GMT |
Frog Autumn |
Frog Autumn Summer grows old, cold-blooded mother. The insects are scant, skinny. In these palustral homes we only Croak and wither. Mornings dissipate in somnolence. The sun brightens tardily ...
Posted by on Mon, 22 Oct 2007 22:58:00 GMT |
