The Palace

Here's a recently rediscovered poem that I wrote when I was about twenty.  I suspect that the "beatings" suggested in the text were emotional rather than physical: otherwise it seems surprisingly modern.  It didn't have a title, so I am calling it "The Palace."   In a dark, deserted palace Where the sun must never […]

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An Adaptation

I've been recently in my acting class with a modern adaption on Chekov's Uncle Vanya, a play called "Life Sucks," it occurred to me that I could apply the concept of an adaptation to some of the translations I was doing.   In other words, I would translate the original poem into English and then turn it […]

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Sleepwriting

The poem below, a haiku, was in my head, completely written when I woke up this morning:   Death Vigil: The Eighth Day -- A Poem Whose Title is Longer Than Itself Her breath is raspy. Outside, rain begins to fall. Even God is sad.

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Hermits and the Internet

The Hermit The hermit, huddled on the hill, Tries, by exercise of will, To do away with loneliness. Yet he is a hermit still. His aged hands, beridged by time, Are streaked with blood, and dust, and grime. (The cuts are wrapped without success.) All this the fruit of his weary climb. Down there, the […]

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Reflections on Time

Reflections on Time This is the first of a series of brief essays that expand upon the ideas expressed in my poems. Let me begin with a poem: Time’s Fools Time is the Master that controls us all. What was, is. What will be, was. We are all Time’s Fools, Who clown and caper as […]

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Poetry Reading

I am pleased to announce that I plan to do my first poetry reading at the Atlas Coffee Company, 300 South A St, Ste 4 Santa Rosa on Wednesday, January 31st.  Doors open at 6PM; readings start around 6:45

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Courtship

Courtship Feeling foolish, imbecilic, Clutching flowers in his hand, He somehow marshals, like a brave boy, All the courage at his command. Knocks quite softly, taps the doorbell, Dreads the moment she appears If he leaves now, before she answers, He won’t confront his deepest fears. The door is open, she regards him With a […]

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Interpreting Borges

For this translation of Borges, I decided to start with the fact that the original poem (Un Ciego) is a classical Shakespearian sonnet.  The decision to respect the form of the original poem when translating leads to a new poem that, while preserving the essential themes and sense of the original, adds and subtracts details for […]

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A little taste of Borges

For a change of pace, how about a little Borges? The Nightmare Jorge Luis Borges (trans. Guy Conner) I dream of an ancient king, His crown of iron, his look of death, There are no faces like that nowadays, You sense his firm blade will obey him, loyal, like a dog I do not from […]

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Acceptance

It was only to be expected, I guess.  When I was young, I felt affronted by the prospect of death; as I age, death seems , while still frightening, increasingly natural. Death's Blue-Eyed Boy My father was certain What would happen."Like snuffing out a candle," he'd say. "Like turning out all the lights in the […]

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A blog about all the arts, including politics
"for 'twere absurd to think that nature in the earth bred gold, perfect in the instant;
there must be remote matter." - Ben Jonson
"I don't know what the question is, but art is the answer." - Guy Conner

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