A Good Day June 26, 2009

Burnt Meadow Mountain, Brownfield ME.

The Names of Mountains June 26, 2009

(This is the English version of: Imena Planine.)
I love you for nothing that you did,
but for what you brought forth from my heart
with your little names.
For your love of bread, and for the times
we rolled down the windows and sang
for no one but our selves.
In the kennels the dogs all ask
Who lives in the silence [...]

Montazeri’s Statement June 24, 2009

The Grand Ayatollah Hossein Ali Montazeri issued a statement a few days ago in regards to the ongoing protests. I’m unable to get an exact date on the letter as Montazeri’s website is down but judging by a few other blogs I’m about eight days late on this one. Not really breaking news but the statement [...]

Imena Planine June 16, 2009

Volim vas za ništa da učini
nego i za ono što izvede iz mog srca
sa svojim malim imena: nudi, bubi, stari.
Za tvoju ljubav kruha, i za vrijeme
Smo pjevali za sebe, ali nitko ne.
Sklonište psi pitati
Tko živi u šutnji koja slijedi mene?
(A kad san ja, vaše pjega su moje konstelacija
ruku pod ruku mi sjediti na dvorci, lete [...]

The Language of Strays June 15, 2009

Maybe there is a word in the language of strays; written in the books they never kept.
It would be wasted anyways, as each word is wasted, this empty ringing, a silence hanging from a dead phone.
A poor poet writes: ‘today small things remained small, and in the distance the mountains kept their size,’ but at [...]

Small Change Goes Worldwide June 13, 2009

Ahmadinejad is re-elected, and the shift towards moderation seems to have made slow progress in some corners of the world. Yesterday at work I poured over Mr. Ahmadinejad’s main rival, Mr. Houssein Mousavi’s political history and his policies and found myself getting excited. Pictures of girls in beautiful sea green chadors and hijabs waving green [...]

Simulacra (Part I) June 8, 2009

PART I. ISTINA (f)
I want to write you this poem
but I can’t.
Each time I look
to another place.
Where did I go
when I retreated back into myself?
Leaving you to build your island
and wait for the news
that I was never coming back.
You cried
and told me you wanted
to be held. I was busy writing
a little play.
My nonsense, my simulacra
it [...]

The Artist as a Young Man June 8, 2009

In Dover-Foxcroft, Maine after the premiere of The Transition of Minor Skies. Photo courtesy of Jeff Griecci.
Still a young man. Still recognizing that slowly. Here I am considering my oeuvre when I haven’t created enough to even have one yet.