between the morning
between the night
it is the noon day sun
that shines bold and bright
both dawn and dusk
ride the low horizon
while the middle way
proves zenith
proves meridian
and we stand upon our shadows

At night we become aware
that black is the colour of isolation
that silence is the sound of emptiness
and there are no echoes when we call
nothing offered to the dark returns
while light is but a dream of dawn
built on hope from the past

I have a collection of poems by early 20th century Japanese poet Kenji Miyazawa coming and in honour of the excitement here is one of his poems:

not losing to the rain
not losing to the wind
not losing to the snow nor to summer’s heat
with a strong body
unfettered by desire
never losing temper
always quietly smiling
every day four bowls of brown rice
miso and some vegetables to eat
in everything
count yourself last and put others before you
watching and listening, and understanding
and never forgetting
in the shade of the woods of the pines of the fields
being in a little thatched hut
if there is a sick child to the east
going and nursing over them
if there is a tired mother to the west
going and shouldering her sheaf of rice
if there is someone near death to the south
going and saying there’s no need to be afraid
if there is a quarrel or a lawsuit to the north
telling them to leave off with such waste
when there’s drought, shedding tears of sympathy
when the summer’s cold, wandering upset
called a nobody by everyone
without being praised
without being blamed
such a person
I want to become

The American poet Carl Sandburg who wrote mostly in the 1910’s and 1920’s wrote the following poem which was recently discovered in the archives of the University of Illinois. It is apt to our current culture and worthy of reprinting:

Revolver

Here is a revolver.
It has an amazing language all its own.
It delivers unmistakable ultimatums.
It is the last word.
A simple, little human forefinger can tell a terrible story with it.
Hunger, fear, revenge, robbery hide behind it.
It is the claw of the jungle made quick and powerful.
It is the club of the savage turned to magnificent precision.
It is more rapid than any judge or court of law.
It is less subtle and treacherous than any one lawyer or ten.
When it has spoken, the case can not be appealed to the supreme court, nor any mandamus nor any injunction nor any stay of execution come in and interfere with the original purpose.
And nothing in human philosophy persists more strangely than the old belief that God is always on the side of those who have the most revolvers.

Wisdom is found between the letter of the law and the spirit of the law…

I am like winter glass
transparent, the sun shines through
the light just won’t stop

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2012 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

600 people reached the top of Mt. Everest in 2012. This blog got about 4,100 views in 2012. If every person who reached the top of Mt. Everest viewed this blog, it would have taken 7 years to get that many views.

Click here to see the complete report.

this technicolor fantasy film
that passes before my eyes
this best of 3D demonstrations
that i somehow wind through
it baffles even the best
to interpret these…
these genre-defying days
this genre-defying daze
is it tragic or comic?
it is, and more…
a part written by the actor
while stumbling across the stage
tied to the rafters
tied to the set
tied to the others
stumbling across the stage

keep your arms
keep your legs
inside the ride
at all times
for if they learn
you have these
these limbs
these things
best kept secret
these hands
these feet
that they have
kept in shame
they will take
take them away
cut them away
never to be used
not ever again
some shadows
should not be seen
despite the sun
stay in the dark
for nakedness
is sin to the hidden
pretending to be
clothed to the bone

Terrible nightmare last night…unlike any I have had before.

I was in a house. An old man was complaining about all of the “junk” left behind in his basement by previous renters/occupants. He told me if I wanted anything to help myself and so I went and had a look.

There were primarily shelves and shelves of books focused on eschatology,  theology and occult. One book entitled Libris Judicia (which apparently means Book of Judges) stands out.

At some point in the dream the centre of a very large book was cut out and I was wearing it around my neck…it obscured my vision making it so I could not see my surroundings and I panicked because it felt like there were others in the room with me.

Then I woke up.

I couldn’t sleep well after that because I still had that stupid feeling of presence in the room.

The odd thing about this dream is how real it felt and how utterly disconnected with anything in my life it was. Usually my dreams are very dream-like if that makes sense and they contain very obvious references to whatever is happening in my life.

Anyhow writing about it helps me purge it from the system.