Caveat: Poem #836

autumn’s reflections
articulate water’s shapes
and dismember time

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Caveat: después de muchos años

EL INVENTOR DE LAS METÁFORAS…

El inventor de las metáforas
se parece al duende de los gatos
metiéndose a media noche
por la boca abierta de los niños
para fabricar sus sueños con pesadillas.

El inventor de las metáforas
saborea con su lengua pegajosa
cada llanto infantil
arañando las sábanas.
Y los niños sudorosos
se abrazan a la almohada
e intentan descifrar
la forma de su angustia.

El inventor de las metáforas
siembra una semilla venenosa
que germina en poema
o agoniza en locura después de muchos años.

– Ana Merino (poeta española, n. 1971)

[daily log: walking, 2.5km]

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Caveat: Poem #835

the wind tears at trees
thrusts branches, tosses needles,
throws the rain around

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Caveat: Mystery solved!

I’ve been wondering about this for a while. And now it’s solved, elegantly and clearly.

picture

[daily log: walking, 4km]

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Caveat: Poem #834

Phrases slip out and envelop the air
hanging and swirling across small divides
so, in that way they embrace the despair
slowly arriving like foam on the tides

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Caveat: trees and water

I’m not feeling particularly communicative with this here blog lately.

Here are some pictures. More trees and water, which is what there is around here.

picture

picture

picture

[daily log: walking, 4km]

Posted in Banalities & Journaling, My Photos | Leave a comment

Caveat: Poem #833

on the edges of things
bits of meaning can be found:
there… a bird flits by.

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Caveat: distillation of the day

Arthur and I drove into town this evening and had dinner with Richard and Jan and Frank and Heidi and Marshall. These are all denizens of Craig, who have been supportive of Arthur over the last summer’s events, and of course Jan and Richard have been helpful too with my move here and Richard is the guy with the excavator who put in the new driveway on the western lot.

Frank is a fisherman and he makes homemade moonshine (an apple brandy) which we sampled, and yes it’s very strong liquor but I thought it wasn’t bad at all.

Arthur prepared his famous chiles rellenos, and we had that with beans and salad at Jan and Richard’s for dinner.

[daily log: walking, 4km]

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Caveat: Poem #832

You’d think, with free time,
I’d finish that damn novel.
But I can’t seem to.

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Caveat: 보았던 거니까 like dejavu

지금 듣고있는 것.

보이콜드, “Youth!” This song is the most completely, fully bilingual bit of Khiphop (Korean hip hop) that I’ve run across. Completely at ease in both languages, with constant code-switching.

가사.

Yeah, alright, I’ll go…

I’m trynna keep it fresh like
헤엄치는 lil fish life
바다엔 없지 no finish line
구르다가 이제야 나 쉬는 time

그림을 그리려 해
어두운 도화지 위에
when I draw some milky way
아른대지 이리저리
어지러운 팔레트 위에

봐 무슨 일이 벌어지는지
따라 하진 말아 거울 보듯이
사랑하면 사랑을 줘야지
다 너인 듯이 대해줘 please

왜냐 finally 만물이
너와 같다는 걸 알게 될 터이니
we livin’ livin’ but ain’t dead fool
보았던 거니까 like dejavu

삶이란 건 쩔어 있기 너무 쉬워
눈 풀어 버리고 다시 함
swerve
썼던 거 꺼내서 다시 써
다시금 씹어 줬으면 해서

성원이 형처럼
boy and cold
내 목 풀어야해 또
on and on
큼큼 아아 음음 음음
let’s get it on

alright 몰라
that’s fine 정말
good life good life
높아 진짜
livin my life we’ll be so fine
tv sofa on my life

얼마 안남았지
전국에 발자국 마킹
옆엔 섭이 파피
toys-r-us 쓸어 담지
내 인생 life so flip

탈출했지 찐찌
rich kid like i’m franky
ocean
눈치보던 나를 모셔
이젠 보여 내 몸 보석

내 친구들 모여 light it up
hive so high 내 사비로
다 쏠게 있는 일 다 미뤄
질투 시샘들은 다 뒤로

이젠 살지 않아 간 보며
living good times like 팔로형
좋은 일밖에 난 안보여
계속 난 달리지 만보 yuh

imma go do that right
바뀌지 switching side
imma go do that right
바뀌지 switching side

여전해 한 손에는 글라스에
만드네 좋은 track
boycold가 callin 해
공을 채워 통장에
계속 ballin 해

alright 몰라
that’s fine 정말
good life good life
높아 진짜
livin my life we’ll be so fine
tv sofa on my life

boy cold boycold on a beat
쩌는게 들리는데 넌 어디
내 인천 동생 성원이와
퍼즐 히트 칠 땐 넘 어렸지

친구들과 다른 길을 걸었지
보란 듯이 증명해 버렸지
목표에 닿긴 아직 멀었지
헛되 보이는 꿈을 꾸자 철없이

꿈은 이뤄져
근데 왜 친구는 잃어져
요즘은 이런 일이 잦고 잘 지내냐는
질문은 싫어졌다가도
다시 듣고 싶어져
뻔한 물음이어도

구름이 어둡게 해도
그저 어린 내가 나는 좋대도
오늘이 내 남은 날의 첫day고
부디 넌 내 목소릴 기억해줘

삶이란 건 너무 엄청나
허나 고생은 다 거쳐가
그래서 축복이 넘쳐나지 우린
하늘이 될 거야 거처가

that’s right goes
around comes around
축복하며 살자 하온아 성원아
성원하자 모두 서로가 서로와
잊어버려 지나가버린
summer night

alright 몰라
that’s fine 정말
good life good life
높아 진짜
livin my life we’ll be so fine
tv sofa on my life

[daily log: walking, 4km]

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Caveat: Poem #831

Pieces of paper
are scattered across my desk.
Outside, the wind blows.

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Caveat: Walking alone

Somewhat to my surprise, Arthur didn’t want to walk with me today. I think he enjoys walking in the rain less than I do. And I know I’m weird. Anyway, I went on my daily walk alone, in the rain.

picture

picture

picture

[daily log: walking, 4.5km]

Posted in Banalities & Journaling, My Photos | 1 Comment

Caveat: Poem #830

What do the deer dream,
curled up in some woody hollow?
Do bears lurk out there?

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Caveat: Poem #829

from naked branches
shimmering in twilight air
tiny jewels hang

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Caveat: Botarlos votando

Como suele enunciar mi tio, “never vote for an incumbent.”

No estoy seguro de si así hace. Me parece que sus instintos libertarios (o sea, anti-gobierno) son demasiados fuertes para que se atreva a votar por un demócrata. Acá en Alaska, los titulares son en su mayoría republicanos. Pero en en general no conversamos sobre asunto políticos. Sé que somos diferentes.

De todos modos, los votamos.

[daily log: walking, 4km]

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Caveat: Poem #828

negative spaces
of cerulean and pale,
sketched by tree branches

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Caveat: intoxicated by slogans

A mass movement readily exploits the discontent and frustration of large segments of the population which for some reason or other cannot face the responsibility of being persons and standing on their own feet. But give these persons a movement to join, a cause to defend, and they will go to any extreme, stop at no crime, intoxicated as they are by the slogans that give them a pseudo-religious sense of transcending their own limitations. The member of a mass movement, afraid of his own isolation, and his own weakness as an individual, cannot face the task of discovering within himself the spiritual power and integrity which can be called forth only by love. Instead of this, he seeks a movement that will protect his weakness with a wall of anonymity and justify his acts by the sanction of collective glory and power. All the better if this is done out of hatred, for hatred is always easier and less subtle than love. It does not have to respect reality as love does. It does not have to take account of individual cases. Its solutions are simple and easy. It makes its decisions by a simple glance at a face, a colored skin, a uniform. It identifies an enemy by an accent, an unfamiliar turn of speech, an appeal to concepts that are difficult to understand. He is something unfamiliar. This is not “ours.” This must be brought into line – or destroyed.

Here is the great temptation of the modern age, this universal infection of fanaticism, this plague of intolerance, prejudice and hate which flows from the crippled nature of man who is afraid of love and does not dare to be a person. It is against this temptation most of all that the Christian must labor with inexhaustible patience and love, in silence, perhaps in repeated failure, seeking tirelessly to restore, wherever he can, and first of all in himself, the capacity of love and which makes man the living image of God. – Thomas Merton (American monk, 1915-1958)

[daily log: walking, 4km; tromping, 250m]

 

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Caveat: Poem #827

it’s necessary
to answer the voices heard
to walk and to think

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Caveat: A daily walk

One thing I try to do is take a daily walk. It’s important to get out of the house. I think it’s good for Arthur,  too. It’s hard to get motivated when it rains for days on end. Interestingly, I don’t in any way make him take walks. I announce that I’m going for a walk, and he inevitably comes along, rain or shine. I’m certain he wouldn’t if it was just him alone, even though we are not at all social during our walks – he mostly listens to his “audiobooks” while I observe the world and sometimes take pictures.

I often end up far behind or ahead of him, depending on whether I’ve stopped to look at something or if I’m pacing myself relative to his progress. Here is a picture of Arthur far ahead down the road, during a continuous drizzle.

picture

[daily log: walking, 3km]

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Caveat: Poem #826

A book I started –
oh, thirty years ago now –
but I’ll try again.

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