March Dust: W.S Merwin And The Precariousness of What We Haven’t Done.

The end of March juggles winter and spring, often choosing both.  Ice and melting ice, snow and melting snow, bare branches and first blooms, and over all blue, blue sky and marshmallow clouds.  W.S. Merwin’s poem, “It Is March” from The Lice muses on appearances and disappearances, revealings and vanishings. It Is March It is … Continue reading March Dust: W.S Merwin And The Precariousness of What We Haven’t Done.

What The Boys Said To Homer: W.S. Merwin’s The Lice And Our Fragile Place In The World.

Rock, shadow, hole in ice, ring of trees, sky.  W.S. Merwin passed from this life into the further reaches of Hawaii last Saturday.  Certainly one of the great poetic voices through the latter half of the 20th century and into the 21st, Merwin captivated readers with his consummate literary skill, knowledge of literary traditions ranging through … Continue reading What The Boys Said To Homer: W.S. Merwin’s The Lice And Our Fragile Place In The World.

C.P. Cavafy In Translation With A French Press Steeping One Hundred Percent Arabica Coffee Beans From South And Central America, And East Africa.

A well-balanced, smooth taste of sweet earth, wild berries and chocolate from Löfbergs EKO Dark Roast begins the morning with an aging paperback copy of Constantine P. Cavafy’s Collected Poems translated by Edmund Keeley and Philip Sherrard. A moment to consider longing. Like the beautiful bodies of those who died before growing old,  sadly shut … Continue reading C.P. Cavafy In Translation With A French Press Steeping One Hundred Percent Arabica Coffee Beans From South And Central America, And East Africa.

In Praise Of Love With Roberta Flack, Heraclitus, Apuleius, Pseudo-Dionysus The Areopagite, Jalaluddin Rumi, Johnny Cash, Rabia Basri, Allan Bloom, Bob Dylan, Scarlett Rivera And A Cup Of Instant Coffee Before I Go To The Valley Below.

A love song can devastate, render us a pool of ache and tears.  A love song may speak to our love in this world, and our desire to claim love beyond physical and temporal bounds.  A love may hunger for the divine.  I first heard “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face” in the … Continue reading In Praise Of Love With Roberta Flack, Heraclitus, Apuleius, Pseudo-Dionysus The Areopagite, Jalaluddin Rumi, Johnny Cash, Rabia Basri, Allan Bloom, Bob Dylan, Scarlett Rivera And A Cup Of Instant Coffee Before I Go To The Valley Below.

More Terror and Terroir Of Love As We Still Ascend, As We Must Ascend With Dante Alighieri, PJ Harvey, Diotima And Her Ladder, The Supremes, Jacques Lacan, Edgar Allan Poe, Nick Cave, Jaufre Rudel and R.E.M. With A Pour Of Caol Ila And A Slice Of Smoked Eel.

Last I left Love, I considered Nick Cave’s dark turnings of the lover’s call, playing off of Dante’s first sonnet of beatific and cannibalistic vision.  Yet, Dante a few sonnets on in Vita Nuova, also broods on the havoc Love causes, so one might say with Marc Antony in Shake the Spear’s Julius Caesar, “Cry … Continue reading More Terror and Terroir Of Love As We Still Ascend, As We Must Ascend With Dante Alighieri, PJ Harvey, Diotima And Her Ladder, The Supremes, Jacques Lacan, Edgar Allan Poe, Nick Cave, Jaufre Rudel and R.E.M. With A Pour Of Caol Ila And A Slice Of Smoked Eel.

Musing On The Heart With John Of The Cross, Dante Alighieri, Nick Cave And The Bad Seeds, Sappho And Julia Child. A Most Monstrous and Wondrous Orgy With Recipe.

My devotion to offal, especially heart, has appeared frequently throughout this blog.  Recipes for this great, bloody muscle resurrect my body and spirit, piercing my tongue and thoughts with recipes revealing its divine aroma and taste.  I have worshipped lamb hearts.   I have worshipped smoked reindeer heart. I have smoked a heart myself. I have … Continue reading Musing On The Heart With John Of The Cross, Dante Alighieri, Nick Cave And The Bad Seeds, Sappho And Julia Child. A Most Monstrous and Wondrous Orgy With Recipe.

A Bog In Saint Clair Shores Surrounds White Castle, While Danger Doom Stirs The Pot.

Time to cook for the family, which means sledging the bog, digging the swamp, pouring the fat. Off to Eastern Market to gather onions, carrots, parsnips, garlic, mushrooms, potatoes, herbs, and oxtails and short ribs. Yes, oxtails and short ribs. Produce from local Michigan farmers gleams aisle after aisle. All that grows in the dark … Continue reading A Bog In Saint Clair Shores Surrounds White Castle, While Danger Doom Stirs The Pot.