Why this?

The occasional piece of my own and a generous helping of others' creations I find inspiring. Site is named for a beloved book by one of my favorite writers, Italo Calvino, whose fanciful work lights--and delights--my soul.

Friday, June 1, 2012

The Grace of Shadows

I've learned to value failed conversations, missed connections, confusions. What remains is what's unsaid, what's underneath. Understanding on another level of being. 

I have no talent. I'm not talking about the literary marketplace: I mean how I see myself. I write poems for myself, like these notebooks, to think things through, that's all.

The soul has two distinct layers. One is the "I"--capricious, fickle, uncertain, it hops from joy to despair. The other, the "soul," is steady, sure, unwavering, watchful, ready, aware.

I received the grace of shadows. The grace of remaining in the dark.

How to write so that the poem is as close as possible to silence? Zen--to play on the lute without strings. Simplicity--of course. But how? What kind?

Seneca: "To treat the days like separate lives."

Bruno Schultz: "To ripen into childhood."

I walk around disguised as an overweight old lady.

Never. Never. Never. I could fill a notebook with that word.

Letters of the condemned. Last words scratched on a cell's wall. To write like that.

From here

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