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A Poet's Journal: February 20th, 2015

  February 20th, 2015 How much of our day is determined by the first few moments after we wake?  And how much have we already decided of ourselves when we are ready to step out from our place of rest?  There is some importance in asking this.  We like to believe that the place of rest holds some physical comfort that we can come back to in time, remaining unchanged, because we ourselves have spent the day going from one thing to another.  But there is always this underlying fixation that what is far from us is truly the thing that will bring us the most support.  The moment that I find myself confronted with something that I can't get around, whether it be plans, obligations, or simply self-imposed rules, I immediately think to something far away, something I don't have that I want, something that I could use, something that I could read; this is the reward for the effort. There is never really enough time for us to be a part of these things, we only use them to get something e
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A Poet's Journal: September 23rd, 2013


September 23th, 2013
A flock of geese passed on the 20th--only the second to date, the other being sandhill cranes.  The 22nd marked the equinox and the moon rose with such grandeur that I was able to follow the contours of a crater with my binoculars until it was enveloped in the earth's shadow.  It makes us wonder what things we would see if we could only look hard enough; or rather, if we could focus our mind on one thought with such illuminating perception, what would our view from the earth look like and where the paths of migration lead?

Douglas Thornton

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NEWLY PUBLISHED TRANSLATIONS!!

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