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Monday, October 17, 2016

And Then This Happened

Heroic physique of Achilles
hidden, terrible
Swishing & Flashing like a Tiger
The Lady or the...
Embodiment of Glorious Grief: Ἀχιλλεύς

Warrior,  glorious grief of war: Ἀχιλλεύς
Beautiful, Dancing, Graceful, Achilles
Tyger, Tyger Burning Bright
Burn, burn, but always the trouble
hidden, terrible
Grief, Lady, grief.

Grieve in silence, like a Lady
ωραίος Ένδοξος Ἀχιλλεύς
My Achilles
My Tiger
but always the trouble
hidden, terrible

It was his word "terrible" 
τρομερός Lady 
τρομερός Ἀχιλλεύς
Terrible Achilles
Terrible Tiger
Terrible, hidden, trouble

Shame. Secret, Sinful, Trouble
Hidden and terrible
Twice born Achilles
Escaped Ἀχιλλεύς
With the Lady
Or was it the Tiger?

Proud, Predatory, Tiger
Women trouble
Hidden, terrible
Victim, Lady. Play, Lady.
τρομερός Ἀχιλλεύς
Sea spawned Achilles

Heroic Achilles, Dangerous Tiger
Hidden, terrible, trouble
Survived Lady Desolate Ἀχιλλεύς

Tuesday, September 27, 2016

The Lady or the Tiger?

I do not go and seek the youthful and inexperienced, but he comes and seeks me. When he shows the sincerity that marks the first recourse to divination, I instruct him. If he apply a second and third time, that is troublesome, and I do not instruct the troublesome.

Monday, July 25, 2016

Fire & Ice

"Passion makes a person stop eating, sleeping, working, feeling at peace. A lot of people are frightened because, when it appears, it demolishes all the old things it finds in its path.

No one wants their life thrown into chaos. That is why a lot of people keep that threat under control, and are somehow capable of sustaining a house or a structure that is already rotten. They are the engineers of the superseded.

Other people think exactly the opposite: they surrender themselves without a second thought, hoping to find in passion the solutions to all their problems. They make the other person responsible for their happiness and blame them for their possible unhappiness. They are either euphoric because something marvelous has happened or depressed because something unexpected has just ruined everything.

Keeping passion at bay or surrendering blindly to it - which of these two attitudes is the least destructive?

I don't know."

Paulo Coelho, Eleven Minutes

Friday, July 15, 2016

"the artist is extremely lucky who is presented with the worst possible ordeal which will not actually kill him"

“I have a tiny little secret hope that, after a decent period of silence and prose, I will find myself in some almost impossible life situation and will respond to this with outcries of rage, rage and love, such as the world has never heard before. Like Yeats's great outburst at the end of his life. This comes out of a feeling that endowment is a very small part of achievement. I would rate it about fifteen or twenty percent, Then you have historical luck, personal luck, health, things like that, then you have hard work, sweat. And you have ambition. The incredible difference between the achievement of A and the achievement of B is that B wanted it, so he made all kinds of sacrifices. A could have had it, but he didn’t give a damn.[...]

But what I was going on to say is that I do strongly feel that among the greatest pieces of luck for high achievement is ordeal. Certain great artists can make out without it, Titian and others, but mostly you need ordeal. My idea is this: the artist is extremely lucky who is presented with the worst possible ordeal which will not actually kill him. At that point, he's in business. Beethoven's deafness, Goya's deafness, Milton's blindness, that kind of thing. And I think that what happens in my poetic work in the future will probably largely depend not on my sitting calmly on my ass as I think, 'Hmm, hmm, a long poem again? Hmm,' but on being knocked in the face, and thrown flat, and given cancer, and all kinds of other things short of senile dementia. At that point, I'm out, but short of that, I don't know. I hope to be nearly crucified,”
― John Berryman

Thursday, July 7, 2016

Heating and Cooling--A Work in Progress

"Sure, come over so we can emotionally destroy one another. It's for my art." I'd said this as a joke. But I'm no longer laughing.
"Maybe I no longer find you smart, charming, or funny." I never said that. Not out loud. Never out loud.

"A tulip in the desert won't last long." You knew this to be true, you who love nothing but your children and "hedonistic adventures." At least you love something. A man who loves something can never be truly evil.

I believed you loved me, but at the same time, somehow, deep down in my darkest heart, I also knew you played with my feelings. As if other people's feelings somehow weren't altogether real to you. As if you could lie to me, fuck me, say crazy, preposterous things, and then ignore me and I was just somehow supposed to take it with a smile. Smile and say nothing. Or risk being subjected to worse cruelties. 
So I said nothing as you mocked my pain and made me feel as if I deserved it for being foolish enough to fall in love with a wicked bewitching smile that concealed a twisted and broken heart as black as the sea. A nightmare masquerading as a beautiful dream. The most beautiful dream. 

But you have many cruelties and I need more than the passionate cruelty you offered. More than a man who loves no one but his children.

I still can't shake the feeling that we've done this, all of this, before. There were important portents, signs to be read and interpreted. Why did I even write this? In part, because you're so breathtakingly beautiful that it makes my soul ache. And in part, or perhaps this is simply an extension of the first part, because I have this fantasy though I know your beauty destroys me. No matter how much I desire it, your virtual presence oppresses me. Your imagined presence presses me into this page where I can only exist as an abstraction, words on a page with no context to frame this sense of recognition. We do not know each other. Yet, I still have this fantasy of you. The perfect you. The dream I had of you.

Monday, June 27, 2016

A Very Basic Misunderstanding

I realize, too late, that we have failed to understand something important. I've tried to pinpoint the exact moment of misunderstanding, but cannot. Nor am I able to discern the exact nature of this failure of understanding. I know only that it was important that we not fail. In this failure there was a decisive moment, that I cannot recall, when your heart hardened against mine and there is no going back. For us it was a point of no return. Don't worry. You can blame it all on me.

Monday, June 20, 2016

The Goodbye Notebook

You were lost to me the first moment I set eyes on you. I just didn't know it.

There is a universe where we are together and there is a universe where we are not.

There is a universe where I stroke your hair and give you the sun;
you are happy but 

I am not.

I want the light of the cold blue moon to touch my heart

                   to be loved for my mind and nothing more; it’s okay 
to change your mind.