February 16, 2006

Faces and Places

Right now it’s the middle of February and I’m listening to the improvised melody created when the two cicadas that are outside the open front door chime in and sing along with Ornette Coleman and this makes everything that was so wrong in my tiny life earlier today seem so far away and absolutely bearable and I can almost see my way clear to the wonderful that is dead on ahead.

Posted by pogo at 7:00 PM | Comments (1)


Federico Garcia Lorca

Only your hot heart,
and nothing more.

My paradise a field
without nightingales
or lyres,
with a discreet river
and a little fountain.

Without the spur of the wind
against the branch,
without the star that wants
to be the leaf.

An enormous light
that longs to be
the firefly
of another,
in a field of
defeated looks.

A clear repose
and there our kisses,
sonorous freckles
of Echo,
would open far away.

And your hot heart,
nothing more.

Posted by pogo at 6:26 PM | Comments (1)

January 19, 2006

I’m Gonna Cry, Cry, Baby

When I was in college I waitressed for a short while at a blues bar. Local and touring bands played every night of the week, and the caliber of music ran the gamut. I heard “Mustang Sally” every night for months on end, sometimes twice. And yet, the virtuosity of Wilson Pickett is so great that even after enduring that, I still love the man’s music. Rest his soul. He died today at age 64 of a heart attack. Sad night in Soulsville, U.S.A.

Posted by pogo at 7:21 PM | Comments (0)

August 30, 2005

Take Me to the River and Drop Me in the Water


It’s astonishing how you hardly ever are able to look at what you see every day with right eyes. I just returned from a visit to see my family and was amazed to learn that I come from a place of startling beauty. The chafe from the buckle on the bible belt blocked my vision for years. There’s a lot to be said in favor of a river life.

Posted by pogo at 8:17 PM | Comments (2)

June 26, 2005

Reading Rilke Recently

Rainer Maria Rilke:
The point of marriage is not to create a quick commonality by tearing down all boundaries; on the contrary, a good marriage is one in which each partner appoints the other to be the guardian of his solitude, and thus they show each other the greatest possible trust. A merging of two people is an impossibility, and where it seems to exist, it is a hemming-in, a mutual consent that robs one party or both parties of their fullest freedom and development. But once the realization is accepted that even between the closest people infinite distances exist, a marvelous living side-by-side can grow up for them, if they succeed in loving the expanse between them, which gives them the possibility of always seeing each other as a whole and before an immense sky.
(translated by Stephen Mitchell)

Posted by pogo at 2:55 PM | Comments (0)