The past made Present 

” … the contemporary artist is always seeking new patterns – new pattern recognition. Which is his task, for heaven’s sake. The absolute indispensability of the artist is that he alone in the encounter with the present can give the pattern recognition. He alone has the sensory awarenes to tell us what our world is made of.” 

~ Marshall McLuhan

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Picasso and the Bull


My recent discovery of Mr. Leunig reflects something of which I am pretty certain: namely, that I will never stop wanting to be in dialogue with myself on the subject of Art.

And, of course, it goes without saying, I can only revel in you feeling the same!

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Books just know

In the house I grew up in . . .

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“Famous smoker and erstwhile poet…”

A “reblog” may not exactly be that one night stand I had envisioned for myself, to spend with a strange, previously unknown poet. But, then again, somehow it is and so now, I have decided, it must be.

The Art of Reading

 When I showed up to open the bookstore this morning, my boss told me that Wislawa Szymborska died yesterday and I promptly burst into tears.

There’s no contemporary poet whose poems have meant more to me than Szymborksa’s. I spent years trying to track her down after reading her poem, “Lot’s Wife,” in high school. I remembered the poem, but not her name. In college I found her again and I’ve been in love ever since. Her book, Here, was my first staff recommendation. She’s probably the poet I’ve posted most on this blog. I’m really sad she won’t write any more poems, but dying at home and in your sleep at 88 seems a pretty good way to go.

The Poetry Foundation’s blog, Harriet, posted an obituary for Szymborska. I love her Nobel Lecture from 1996. NPR referred to her as a “heavy smoker

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“Pass world!: I am the dreamer that remains; the man clear cut against the last horizon.” ~ Roy Campbell

You recognise the moment in yourself where you decide to no longer plague yourself with thoughts of meeting some standard of ideal poetic taste, as much as this place, like some unattainable country beyond the desert, seems to be the fulfilment of a writer’s dream. Don’t feel bad. It wasn’t your idea anyway, and realise places like that aren’t going anywhere. They’re created in the minds of others and, believe me, they exist to tempt us. You stand alone, spear in hand, self-wrought, but it’s okay, because the prey you are after is unlike anything those others will have ever seen.


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Something literary

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Gail’s new note and a big Thank You from me

I am pleased as punch to be able to post this delightful breath of fresh air which just puffed passed me with unexpected daring tonight.  

Much gratitude goes to Gail for giving me permission to share this gem with you.  



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“Musically seeing”

Here’s a quickie: For Lovers of art and music alike, I simply must share this:



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My tell-tale brain

I do believe my brain is telling me that I rather love my little blog after all; I, like some lost defeated hero from one amongst countless nameless battles while, it staunchly waits my return.  Being an offshoot of the same me who is writing this, it, however, gets to experience itself differently in this space than would otherwise be possible in our usual concrete reality.

One could hardly wish for greater fidelity, surely.


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International Day of kissing 

It would almost be remiss of me to allow this day to go by without leaving some kind of mark in honour of today’s special status.  

May your own lips be warmed by this thought……



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