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Eugenio Montale, born in 1896 in Genoa, Italy, emerged as one of the 20th century’s foremost Italian poets, earning the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1975. … Continue readingWednesday Poems: 3 By the Great Italian Poet, Eugenio Montale
What is a novel, or any work of art, but the product of its time, of commerce? What is it but another colorful consumer unit… … Continue readingThe War on Genius: Literature and Its Systems
A breeze slowed sparrow’s flightday was saying goodbye. sparrow took refuge…night knelt behind the yews. Pleasant moments camewhen night said goodbye. Another morning’s breeze threwthe sparrow to another flight. by
Please be kindHave patience with othersThey may not be like you Please listenTake time to understand others Please be carefulIt’s a dangerous timeYour actions may affect others Please don’t harbor
by Maddie Malone (age 14): through steam rising in the kitchen. Thank you. I mutter, swimming into a cloud of dew. … Continue readingSunday Poem: Six Steps to Becoming a Fossil
by Mark Seal at Air Mail: It is a case that shocked the seemingly unshockable state of Florida, a state about which novelist Carl Hiaasen once said, “Every time I
“Here; just stick the end of this hose in yer muzzle—guzzlethe cold ones we’ll pour down the funnel … GUZZLE! GUZZLE!” Our clunkers squat in St. Greg’s parking lot; there
Continue readingSaturday Poem: The End of Childhood is Not Maturity
From Psyche Magazine: The French performance artist Bastien Dausse built the ‘contemporary circus company’ Compagnie Barks around his abiding ‘desire to play with gravity’. This reality-bending video features two performances
Continue readingTwo Gravity-Defying Performances Play With the Physics of Life on Earth
I could be up all nightwithout a single line to write;………………………I might be ass-in-chair till 1st lighteyes propped with toothpicks.………………………Open, I might sit with digitspoised over a keyboard………………………like condors on
Cut into twolike a cake andblown away so swiftlyas candles blown. my thoughts though weptwater of wisdomas she wentbut for my heartcut like a cake. by Irshad Salim, circa 1972
You may write me down in historyWith your bitter, twisted lies,You may trod me in the very dirtBut still, like dust, I’ll rise. Does my sassiness upset you?Why are you
Who was Edward Abbey? Edward Abbey was a firebrand of a writer, a renegade desert rat with an anarchist’s heart, a part-time … Continue readingEdward Abbey: A Voice Crying in the Wilderness