Skip to main content

Posts

Book Release Coming Soon!

  A new volume of poetry will be released in the very near future by Douglas Thornton.  This volume will include all original poems published and unpublished from the years 2016-2022.  Here is the description from the back of the book: 'Before the red sunrise Could catch my steps Upon the dew, Across the quiet hills They came, where sun Is last to leave And fog is first to move, And a solemn, Inward marching Awaits the moon....' A world perceived in change, a moment hidden in darkness, silent companions to our inward movements....  Who are the uninitiated?  Where do they come from?  The poems that make up this volume hold a sign of our connection to phenomena, entering into a space where chaos becomes recognition, where attention finds purpose, and ancient ritual an understanding of the present.  The more elegantly described, the more truthful feeling becomes; the more truthfully conveyed, the more closely we approach this world and come face to face with ourselves.

A Poet's Journal: November 13th, 2014

  November 13th, 2014 The trees are different; it is gray and windy; that feeling everyone knows of autumn.  It seems as if it comes all at once, like an experience that we forget the details to, but never the feeling, nor the flash of color, nor the fading light.  That is why it is so easy to be lost among the trees today; they are shades of themselves, and part of an ideal gone astray. Douglas Thornton

A Poet's Journal: October 23rd, 2014

  October 23rd, 2014 It is tempting to believe that in the lives of the past there was never a dull moment.  Take the life of any dead poet and his years seem as minutes, and every great word or sentence that was conceived by him is as if molded into every second of his life.  There is such an ideal that goes along with it, it is hard to believe they ever took the time to cook for themselves, or do housework, or were prey to the mundane emotions of life.  Boredom, I doubt, has evolved over the centuries, but why do we not see it in them?  What makes us believe that we are so lowly we have not yet reached a state of awareness, the kind of which appeared open to the poets of the past?  It is easy to suffer, but harder to turn that suffering into something no one will ever bat an eye at.  Perhaps what we believe of the past is only our unrealized suffering coming into view.  But perhaps it all comes from our trying too hard, of our making the most of each moment; for it is all too much of

A Poet's Journal: October 19, 2014

  October 19th, 2014 For the past two or three days now, evening has revealed an unexpected joy as it passes into the twilight hour.  The season of migration has come, and I have taken up this passing relationship with things that fly above, to better know them, lest I become a stranger to myself, knowing little of my surroundings.  Yet there are already many dilemmas about which birds I actually see, if they are migratory or not, and their flying formation.  For it is true that there are so many worlds of understanding one on top of the other, and us only living in one of them, that if we ponder the variety of anything that passes before us daily, it seems so far-fetched to believe that we could transcend them with one glance and, if only for a moment, feel what any other may feel just by looking at them.  But this is the most authentic part of our observation; what we see creates the world we live in, and if close enough, may be given the ability to know them, while becoming adept to

Nepalese Notebook: September 25th, 2014

September 25th, 2014 Besi Sahar 760m. You never expect it, but the high mountains soon give way to the low, and the day comes when it is cloudy and humid and easy to forget what is near.  Everything simply disappears without importance, and even if we believe in it, have seen it with our own eyes and accept it wholeheartedly, the lapse is too great, change is too certain, and what was once a thousand year old glacier is now the fountain you drink out of.  Now it is only a busy little Nepalese town where colorful buses pass, where street vendors and shops remind you of the growing indifference of what had once seemed normal, and a fleeting sense of accomplishment gives way to restlessness.  Could we have done more?  Having the trek over is short-lived, and looking back upon the hardships of the trail reminds one of a melancholic sort of comfort that creates new adventures and even more hardships before the time it takes your muscles to recuperate from the previous journey.  Pushing ones

Nepalese Notebook: September 24th, 2014

September 24th, 2014 Bahundanda  1000m? Short walk today from Chyamche; tropical weather, hot and humid, heavy sun.  The trail splits in two not far from Syange, where the right side of the river valley becomes wide enough for jeep travel; although upon our splitting from this, and taking the foot-path on the left, we found the road blocked and many vehicles waiting for access; further down a landslide had stalled most of the transport.  Our trail as well was hobbled by landslides from earlier in the season, with us having to wait or be waited on at certain crossings, as only a narrow path through the rubble was possible.  These parts, though not so much scary in themselves, did tend to leave an impression of the massive amount of earth that had slid down the slope, and even if the ground felt stable under foot, you could not help but feel the eerie silence that surrounded the crossing, and the relief, albeit small, as we stepped away from it. Earlier in the morning we stopped at a sma