We hold many worlds inside our hands. When those worlds end up connecting, what strange and wondrous feeling can move through us, even more so when those worlds connect themselves separate from anything we have done to do such. Such a good feeling when this large world is made smaller.
The great Anis Mojgani talking about a great music blog that covered a great song he did on a great album. Yes, that’s a lot of greats.
One of Pablo Neruda’s writing desks. I think from his house in Isla Negra.
*from Absence and Remembrance by Alistair Reid
7 years ago today she passed. This was the poem I wrote to deal with it. The second poem I ever wrote out of only 5 or 6, still a little rough around the edges.
I think I’m about 2 in this picture, just after we came here from Chile. I miss her.
My world became unhinged
There were 2 pillars in my life (at least)-
The doctor came back and shook one of those pillars.
He said we’d lose that pillar in 6 to 9 months.
In the time it takes for a birth we might have a death.
I knew it would happen sooner or later,
But in that span of death we saw a birth.
And like every birth it was a miracle.
My Mother grew stronger than she’d ever been-
just try and mess with her now.
And after years of morning sickness and labor we felt the birth
of family unity.
I felt understanding kicking inside me.
For in that excruciating beautiful moment I felt It.
The indescribable pain felt by the Beauty.
In that God given moment I felt Him
Felt Him in a way no measure of comfort can bring
It was Him
That damn blessed doctor brought me the news that I could take a step towards God.
You who gave birth to the two of us also gave birth to this.
Thank you, Mom.
This poem opened me to poetry. I still remember it - I was standing in a bookstore and thought to open up the book since I knew Neruda was from Chile (land of my birth but now mostly of memories and smells). I’d read poetry before but never had it change me. As I stood there I felt the floor drop. I felt as though I was on an ocean, being tossed around. This feeling lasted the duration of the poem. The poem ended, I closed the book, bought it (which felt small after something like that. In a perfect world they would have just given me the book - I’d earned it.), and poetry, since then, has been a periodic friend. Although I’ve never really written it, except for a brief, three week flurry of poetic activity one summer about 10 years ago that ended as quickly as it began, it seems to find me when I most need it.
This clip is from the soundtrack to the film Il Postino, a great, quiet film about the time Neruda was in exile from Chile and lived in a small Italian village for a time.
October 14th at the Cherrywood Coffeehouse in Austin TX I’ll be doing a show with the wonderful musician Bahhaj Taherzadeh, better known to the world as We/Or/Me. Our mutual friend Misha Maynerick Blaise has been wanting to get Bahaj down to Austin for a spell so she set the whole thing up and did the beautiful poster shown above.