Where you want to put it, fool? On the dark? All right. I’ll say it again: All right. All right. You know it’s gonna be all right. Everything is gonna be all right even when it’s not. Perfection includes imperfection. And that includes you, fool. So where you want to put it, my brother, My...
How can it be You might wonder in a quiet moment set aside willfully to focus on will, on what you will do and what you won’t and how it always is what you will it to be – yes, during one of those appointments with your soul you might wonder How can it be?...
The most marvelous thought occurred to me, an occurrence in and through the hollow reed we choose to be. How preposterously inconsequential you are! Irreducibly irrelevant speck of cosmic flotsam. Now! (Like the B&B lady in Sheepland). Somehow you feel better. Knowing this. Having this thought occur.
Between a reason and excuse A fine line, a filament, a dilettante rope Unfurls and hides. We might not see yet can’t refuse The shades of meaning found in joy and hope. Choose words carefully – That’s the lesson, the lemon, the luminosity. Should you be charged with loquacious verbosity, Sentenced to the slammer, Annealed...
How terribly awfully blatantly and, one might emphasize, preposterously naïve to envision even for a frivolous moment a world, or a set of circumstances, alternating laws and chances, in which wherein and also everything else you can dream, human beings, people decide to make love the reason for living. Slilly thought yes. Even sillier,...
If only every single person on this cruelty infested planet could sit quietly beside my garden, then those who cared to listen might hear what twittering really sounds like. If only every single person on this greed befouled planet could stroll carelessly through my neighborhood, then those who cared to look might see what...
When we make contact with the extraterrestrials, the Aliens as they’re called – the Other in its most foreign form – when we do, what do you think will happen? What will you feel? Relief? Fear? Bewilderment? Ecstasy? Will they be exactly like us, much improved? Or – and this seems more likely – will...
My friend the genius musician artist said: “The three words that define Los Angeles are Why Not Me?” The correct question, as any enlightened person could tell you — and probably would if given an opportunity no matter how slender or conversationally tenuous, like a run-on sentence in an increasingly ponderous poem – the correct...
Find someone else to do the actual work for you While you sit in a chair Pay this person less than their labor is worth Add value to their labor by doing clever things Such as advertising and storytelling Conjure fantastical tales of how beneficial and sexy it would be to drink South Pacific water...
If one could add the entirety of what we can see and what we can’t — the supplicant on a rant, matter dark, unknowable, persistent bitterness neat and stowable – what we would be forced to examine are children wrenched by famine, a panoply of catastrophes, like man-made war, man-made disease.
We might also deign to look at an ancient (antiquated?) holy book, imparting wisdom, dispensing lessons, doling out her meager blessings to those who care to…
Writer, poet, artist, improviser, lyricist, former television personality, and generally decent person.
Published in the current issue of Harper’s Magazine, the essay “Nothing But Gifts,” by Edwin Dobb, is one of the most beautiful pieces of writing we’ve lately had the pleasure of reading. Discursive and tangential in form, the essay nonetheless always returns to the author’s central inquiry: What does it mean to choose to love? The adoptive...
Greatest Hits