hazy valley:
stubble fire smoke glows like
a Martian landscape.
Post-Harvest Mars [Haiku]
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Sunflower Horde [Free Verse]
A horde of sunflowers
Grows on thin stalks
With big, bright heads
That tilt chin-upwards.
Could they stand so tall
And proudly if they weren't
Packed against each other?
When one bitch-slaps a sunflower,
One expects its head to fly
Clean off, but it just does
An angry little head bobble,
And goes about its business,
Looking skyward...
Though - occasionally - one breaks
Into a sad nod.
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DAILY PHOTO: Clouds & Mountain, Mt. Shani
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PROMPT: Animal
A mythical one to be sure. Cobbled together and a product of pure imagination. Griffin, Minotaur, Dragon, Vietnamese Unicorn (not to be confused with the kind hung as posters on the walls of pre-teen American girls,) or something of that nature.
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“This World is not Conclusion” (373) by Emily Dickinson [w/ Audio]
This World is not Conclusion.
A Species stands beyond --
Invisible, as Music --
But positive, as Sound --
It beckons, and it baffles --
Philosophy, dont know --
And through a Riddle, at the last --
Sagacity, must go --
To guess it, puzzles scholars --
To gain it, Men have borne
Contempt of Generations
And Crucifixion, shown --
Faith slips - and laughs, and rallies --
Blushes, if any see --
Plucks at a twig of Evidence --
And asks a Vane, the way --
Much Gesture, from the Pulpit --
Strong Hallelujahs roll --
Narcotics cannot still the Tooth
That nibbles at the soul --
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Golden Hour [Haiku]
sunup hour:
yellow blossoms turn gold;
one flutters to earth.
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DAILY PHOTO: Taoist Temple, Kaohsiung
BOOKS: “A Man Was Going Down the Road” by Otar Chiladze
A Man Was Going Down the Road by Otar ChiladzeMy rating: 5 of 5 stars
Publisher Site
This is the English translation of a novel considered to be one of the most important literary works of Georgia (i.e. the country, not the state) in the twentieth century. The multigenerational tale adapts from Greek Mythology, most notably the story of Jason and the Golden Fleece and Daedalus and Icarus (the former taking place early in the book and the latter towards the end.)
Given its pacing, multigenerational sprawl, and the rambling ordinary life interactions between big events, this book isn’t of the highest readability, but that has its benefits. Supposedly, the author was taking digs at the Soviets and their invasions and operations in Georgia, but – apparently – the Soviet censors never made the connection due to the abstruse nature of the story. Otherwise, we might not have this book to read, today.
Regardless of my comments about readability, the book does have a number of positive things going for it. I found the translation to have some beautiful stretches of language. There was an opening paragraph of one of the latter chapters that floored me. Also, it’s not all soap opera, the more intensely plot-driven bits are compelling, most notably the Golden Fleece story.
I’d highly recommend this book for readers who don’t mind the challenge of literary fiction pacing and everyday minutiae.
View all my reviews
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PROMPT: 100-year-old
Dear 100-year-old self,
In the unlikely event that we’re still alive, go play with the wolves. Let them have their meal, meager though it may be. We’ve had a good run, and – unless I miss my guess – are not feeling vigorous of either mind or body. If we are feeling vigorous of mind and body, please disregard until such time as it’s not true anymore. In said case, I’m very curious about what kind of scientific breakthrough occurred (or magic fountain we fell into,) and look forward to learning about that in due time.
Signed,
Your younger self, the one far more afraid of dementia & incontinence than of death-
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“The Chimney Sweeper” by William Blake [w/ Audio]
A little black thing among the snow,
Crying ''weep! 'weep!' in notes of woe!
'Where are thy father & mother? say?'
'They are both gone up to the church to pray.
'Because I was happy upon the heath,
'And smil'd among the winter's snow,
'They cloth'd me in the clothes of death,
'And taught me to sing the notes of woe.
'And because I am happy & dance & sing,
'They think they have done me no injury,
'And are gone to praise God & his Priest & King,
'Who make up a heaven of our misery.'
Tiger Riding for Beginners 