At times I do get into philosophical thought. While I’m not into philosophers, occasionally something does make me think more deeply. When I was at NYU, we were told to write an essay about our philosophy of life – I remember thinking – but do I even have a philosophy of life? Perhaps that wasContinue reading “More Thoughts: Seven”
Tag Archives: poetry
More Thoughts: Six
The importance of memory. I’m not sure where I read this piece by Borges. Knowing that the author was blind, made it particularly poignant. While it didn’t apply directly to me, I now realize how, as we age, memory will be our life. Borges – L’Artefice “He (Hector) had never lingered over the pleasures ofContinue reading “More Thoughts: Six”
More Thoughts: Five
Then there was the guard at MOMA where I worked as a student when I was attending NYU. Before becoming secretary to Monroe Wheeler, my job was basically simple – working in the ticket booth or selling books. That didn’t stop me from looking at the paintings whenever I could, or looking down from the rooftopContinue reading “More Thoughts: Five”
More Thoughts: Four
Since Augustine did not become a saint till later in life, this may very well be by him. Dancing with your whole body and mind is after all surrendering yourself to life. I’m not sure, though, whether his mother, Monica, would have approved. I would have left the angels nonplussed, for I never really learnedContinue reading “More Thoughts: Four”
Second Thoughts on Starting Anew
Once upon a time, say 20 years ago. When did it all begin? –and I don’t mean the eclipse. I mean when your life turns from being only what you plan and starts to include a dependence on what others think you should or shouldn’t do. Yesterday it was you who was boss, now graduallyContinue reading “Second Thoughts on Starting Anew”
Arches
Once upon a time there were small towns where the buildings, the people, communicated with each other. But this is after all Italy where even now one lives surrounded by the past. Stairs used to be outside – now they are almost all inside. Houses still touch each other as they march along the street,Continue reading “Arches”
Doors — Who Knows
You never know what lies behind a door. That’s the point. A door may conceal what was never meant to be seen. The odds and ends, the remnants, of some magnum opus. The mundane residue of what once was grand. An open door may suddenly reveal three levels of brick arches, piggyback one on theContinue reading “Doors — Who Knows”
The Last Rose
It was the last rose. The deep red blossom had not opened all the way or perhaps had no intention of opening. Still I found it beautiful. That was weeks ago. Even now the rose sits there in its vase. The petals brown and withered. Yet even so I find it beautiful. Not simply theContinue reading “The Last Rose”
Unpurchasable Memories
There’ll be a box somewhere in your house – in the movies it’s often under the bed or up on a high shelf in the closet – with treasured letters and cards, keepsakes (nice name). I have several packets of letters, but I’ve written about them before. They and the cards are part of peopleContinue reading “Unpurchasable Memories”
Yellow
Shades of yellow Hues of yellow Lemon amber chrome gold Burnt umber, bronze A yellow butterfly Escaping from the ghetto A patch of yellow wall in Vermeers View of Delft Proust Van Gogh Rembrandt The Jewish Bride Slashes of yellow satin sleeves The little prince Daffodils and sunflowers A host of golden daffodils Your hairContinue reading “Yellow”
The Consequences of Falling
A nano second. That’s all it is. And one finds oneself face down, trying to recover an awareness of oneself. That’s what happens when one falls – the fall itself – that moment when the body moves from upright to horizontal, that moment perhaps before one’s head hits the ground, somehow no longer exists. ThenContinue reading “The Consequences of Falling”
Music and Memory
As I get older my lifestyle changes. What I once took for granted, gradually vanishes from sight, or should I say from hearing. Memory. All that remains to us as we get older is memory. We can no longer hear the music that marked our lives, except in memory. We can no longer enjoy theContinue reading “Music and Memory”
Coffee
It’s a hot hot summer day. You find that even thinking takes it out of you. And then you see a stand selling granita di caffe. Coffee, frozen and crushed to a mush and with a cap of whipped cream on top. Does that count as coffee? I suppose it does for it brings youContinue reading “Coffee”
Colleen/Guardian Angel
Aren’t we all supposed to have guardian angels? They may not be all that interested in their charges, and sometimes seem to disregard them completely. There’s one in particular who seems to have forgotten what he was supposed to be doing. In any case my friend Colleen Garvey caught him sleeping. She said he was theContinue reading “Colleen/Guardian Angel”
Solitude
A gift of old age. Or a curse. To learn to take in hand, and not to be subjected to. To be ardently sought for. Solitude, allowing us to think, move perhaps back into the past which is the basis of all we do, the past of things best forgotten, or the foundation of theContinue reading “Solitude”
Waiting Again
Inspired by John Looker. Thank you, John. “With the voices of those who were dead speaking even now in her ears she was lost in a world beyond place or time …” from “How the Dead Spoke to Odyssea,” in Shimmering Horizons by John Looker, Bennison Books, 2021. Waiting again. As always. DANGER. NO ACCESS. The signContinue reading “Waiting Again”
The Archaeologist and Food
Food, forever food One of my sons is an archaeologist. His younger brother started out as a naturalist. Both ended up involved with wild boars. My older archaeologist son is also into cooking. Particularly the “archaeological” aspect. Years ago he tried making beer the original Egyptian way, sprouting and roasting hops (using a friend’s potteryContinue reading “The Archaeologist and Food”
Learning Italian
If one wants to become acquainted with a culture, one really should become involved with the language. And of course, vice versa. There are different ways to do it and I suppose I did all of them. Studying grammar and dictionaries, reading whatever came to hand, speaking with everyone whether a stranger or not, friendships,Continue reading “Learning Italian”
Trees
John Muir loved trees and so do I. Remember reading how he would climb up to the top of a sequoia and sway back and forth with the tree in the wind. He never saw a discontented tree, he said. They grip the ground as though they liked it, and though fast-rooted they travel aboutContinue reading “Trees”
Every Day at…
One day is like another … or is it? Every day at 8 o’clock in the morning A woman in a black coat, her hat pulled low over her ears, is walking a black and white dog. A young man is sitting outside a small church, smoking a cigarette. He smiles as the dog goesContinue reading “Every Day at…”
Erika Bizzarri 