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recycled soul: godthings: “The Japanese haiku poets understand perhaps as fully as...
“Our lives are lived in relationship to words, written and spoken, sacred and mundane. They are manna for the journey. As embodied beings we take our whole bodies with us into the act of reading, which, at its best, is spacious, full-bodied, wholehearted, and infused with the breath of life.”
— Marilyn Chandler McEntyre, Caring for Words in a Culture of Lies (via bookofwriting)
Posted on January 29, 2012 via Invisible Foreigner with 36 notes
Source: invisibleforeigner
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In a political culture of managed spectacles and passive spectators, poetry appears as a rift, a peculiar lapse, in the prevailing mode. The reading of a poem, a poetry reading, is not a spectacle, nor can it be passively received. It’s an exchange of electrical currents through language—that daily, mundane, abused, and ill-prized medium, that instrument of deception and revelation, that material thing, that knife, rag, boat, spoon/reed become pipe/tree trunk become drum/mud become clay flute/conch shell become summons to freedom/old trousers and petticoats become iconography in appliqué/rubber bands stretched around a box become lyre.
Adrienne Rich, Someone is Writing a Poem (via wwnorton)Posted on December 26, 2011 via W. W. Norton with 76 notes
Source: wwnorton
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Wise mind lends itself to poetry, and pain almost always demands poetic language… What you’re going to be looking for with clients is some kind of language. And saying to a client ‘you’re homesick’ is extraordinarily different from telling her ‘you’re depressed.’
Marsha Linehan -
More deadly than the Idle Word is the use of words as Black Magic… . For millions of people today, words like Communism, Capitalism, Imperialism, Peace, Freedom and Democracy have ceased to be words the meaning of which can be inquired into and discussed, and have become right or wrong noises to which the response is as involuntary as a knee reflex.
W. H. Auden (qtd. here)Posted on June 8, 2011 via writing in the dust with 11 notes
Source: wesleyhill
i am growing up
beneath the singing heavens;
walk with me awhile.
