The Bamboo By Li Ch’e Yun’s Window
Don’t cut it to make a flute.
Don’t trim it for a fishing
Pole. When the grass and flowers
Are all gone, it will be beautiful
Under the falling snow flakes.
Po Chu I, translated by Kenneth Rexroth Continue reading
Don’t cut it to make a flute.
Don’t trim it for a fishing
Pole. When the grass and flowers
Are all gone, it will be beautiful
Under the falling snow flakes.
Po Chu I, translated by Kenneth Rexroth Continue reading

For anyone who believes that all people are created equal and entitled to a government of, by and for them, it is a dark moment. The Supreme Court’s elimination of limits on corporate political speech guarantees that democratic power will now be directly sold to the highest bidders. Continue reading

These photographs are for dad, who cherished winter and forests and snow, and would have loved this storm. Taken with one of his beloved old Nikon lenses; I like to think that whatever I shoot with them, he will see. Continue reading

About two years ago, I started a list on Wordie of fine-sounding words. When I last went to add a word, however, the update function was disabled. I’d probably logged in so infrequently that a defunct-account subroutine kicked in, though I prefer to think of dust gathering on the computers, and a repairman’s sneeze sending words sparkling into the air like motes in a sunbeam. Continue reading