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Monthly Archives: January 2008

The bird sings

Wednesday, January 23, 2008

This morning, Wallace Stevens’ Of Mere Being, this part:
A gold-feathered bird
Sings in the palm, without human meaning,
Without human feeling, a foreign song.
You know then that it is not the reason
That makes us happy or unhappy.
The bird sings. Its feathers shine.

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Scraping it away

Thursday, January 10, 2008

Gertrude Stein sat for Picasso, in 1905-6, and he painted her portrait. Every afternoon for three months, she and her little dog trotted over to the painter’s cramped quarters, where she posed in a large broken armchair. After ninety sittings, Picasso told her not to return. He scraped away everything he had done on her [...]

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Over the line

Friday, January 4, 2008

Over the past few days, the rest of me has begun to follow the foot I stepped quietly over the line into the new year. I’ve been frustrated by my favorite hat I brought back from Big Sur for the cold, for walking, having gone missing sometime in the past couple weeks. I remember clearly [...]

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