Decide that you like college life. In your dorm you meet many nice people. Some are smarter than you. And some, you notice, are dumber than you. You will continue, unfortunately, to view the world in exactly these terms for the rest of your life.
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READIN
READIN started out as a place for me
to keep track of what I am reading, and to learn (slowly, slowly)
how to design a web site.
There has been some mission drift
here and there, but in general that's still what it is. Some of
the main things I write about here are
reading books,
listening to (and playing) music, and
watching the movies. Also I write about the
work I do with my hands and with my head; and of course about bringing up Sylvia.
The site is a bit of a work in progress. New features will come on-line now and then; and you will occasionally get error messages in place of the blog, for the forseeable future. Cut me some slack, I'm just doing it for fun! And if you see an error message you think I should know about, please drop me a line. READIN source code is PHP and CSS, and available on request, in case you want to see how it works.
See my reading list for what I'm interested in this year.
READIN has been visited approximately 236,737 times since October, 2007.
Possibly premature (heh) but I have a title page totally thought out for This Silent House... I had been thinking a snippet from "Lullaby for Laura" would be the epigraph, but I just found a JoaquÃn Pasos poem that makes me think of Ãvala: it is the one.
New images from ESA's Mars Express craft have me picturing myself riding a more primitive craft down the river with Huck and Jim... they are crablike hexapods with fringes of symbiotically attached smaller organisms trailing from their undersides... (thanks for the link, Gary!)
El silencio, roto por el repique sordo de un reloj—
A orilla de la calzada harapo mojado, harapo que solÃa ser camisa elegante—
La plaza que se llena de repente con oleada de sombras por delante
de la luz del sol, o de las alas—
El sueño que vuelve al cabo de cuarenta años, de volar por encima de un mar de lino—
Las huellas estampadas como rastros en la nieve
por la tarde disueltos en compunción y lluvia—
Fue aquà que te sentabas, junto al ramo de orquÃdeas
mirando más allá de la puerta del jardÃn, a tu lado la mujer
y el pelo ni siquiera gris—
por Luisa A. Igloria, en via negativa/tr. Jeremy Osner
las sombras y los sueños en que se consisten
las paredes y puertas de la casa en que moro
las palabras y frases que salen a chorros:
en que mi tiempo sea corto insisten
On these pages I record and bequeath
the semi-autobiographical log,
a sort of last will and testament,
perhaps devoid of the Maestro’s
meter, rhythm and rhyme,
a run-away musical score
for a fugue in counterpoint
Colombian poet Luis Zalamea translated Prufrock into Spanish. The Fugue in Counterpoint is his own take on the poem, a take written in 1984 for the collection Voces en el desierto, with an introductory note. (The blog is duopoetico, looks very interesting, a collaboration between Zalamea and his daughter Pilar Kimbrell.)
caminamos tú y yo
se anochece en el cielo
como un borracho en el arroyo:
visitamos unos esquinas
y calles ya desconocidas
platicamos, sonreÃmos
me resulta muy difÃcil olvidar
-- The Modesto Kid
Let us go then, you and I,
the evening sprawled across the sky
just like a drunkard, passed out in the gutter.
The patrons scowl, and mutter.
-- Peter Conlay
posted morning of January 9th, 2013: 1 response ➳ More posts about Poetry
