Tag Archives: eternity

Careful–or not

Careful–or not.  You don’t be careful, you’re going to wind up dead.  Every time Grandma spoke to me like that, I tried to show her that I still cared about my life and that I was not reckless.  But she was right, I would end up dead…in fact, I did end up dead; that’s how…More

Enough, or, Let Them Be

The author of the world put down his pen and said Enough!  I have had enough of this, since it goes on ever in the same way.  Just a little change, the tiniest change, would do some good, it would do a world of good!  So he got out his tool kit and contemplated to…More

the forever of unsure

It was impossible to be precise about itNo one felt anything definiteThere wasn’t any announcement about the thingWhen it happenedWe understood nothing of what had happenedTo us. We would have been afraid to sayAnything about it but the fearWas unpronounced, a vague stirringInstead we watched the earth shakeThe sky change into colorsUnimagined until now, now…More

Poetry and the Idea

Does poetry relate to the idea?  Yes, as far as the idea is force all poetry, and always, relates to it, as speaking out is a force and, like ideas, is effective in the world around it, the world of forces.  What the idea is besides this force, or as this force, is of course…More

From the Vault of Dust

Dust, dust everywhere, and its movements entire worlds and shapeless defining and redefinition of worlds. Every speck of things a brilliant possibility, even the dust swept aside and beneath things beckoning to unheard of possibilities.More

docta ignorantia

How far does my ignorance extend? To the ends? To every end? I might be certain of having a hand, but the certainty is merely a brick in the wall of a building I use as my shelter. I might be certain of having a desire for someone or something, but a desire can be…More

The Forever of Joy

Sorrow tells us what we want to hear, that the world is small and shall become smaller, that it will shrink even more than it is shrunken now, fold into innumerable wrinkles like a compressed apricot pit, compressed to the size of a mustard grain.  We want to hear it because sadness makes the world…More