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| On a newsstand box near the Law School... |
Friday, January 31, 2014
Last day at Richardson...
My last day at the William S. Richardson School of Law. I will miss the whole crew. They are the best group of people that I've worked with in a long time!
Monday, January 27, 2014
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Sunday, January 26, 2014
Another light poem to a colleague who makes awesome lumpias...
If there be saints in the pantheon of digestion,
Violeta's lumpias would be canonized without question.
Whatever the filling, savory or sweet,
my greater sin is in how many I eat.
Violeta, 12 at one sit, is my confession.
Violeta's lumpias would be canonized without question.
Whatever the filling, savory or sweet,
my greater sin is in how many I eat.
Violeta, 12 at one sit, is my confession.
A light goodbye poem to an admin assistant at work...
Dared only in Navajo code,
to the axis of power, a most celestial ode,
though a bouquet is not quite telling --
and roses not Machiavellian
enough gratitude for a thorny stem bestowed,
best to genuflect with wilting glower.
to the axis of power, a most celestial ode,
though a bouquet is not quite telling --
and roses not Machiavellian
enough gratitude for a thorny stem bestowed,
best to genuflect with wilting glower.
Short poem by Paul Celan...
TO STAND, in the shadow
of a scar in the air.
Stand-for-no-one-and-nothing.
Unrecognized,
for you
alone.
With all that has room within it,
even without
language.
From Celan's Atemwende, trans. by John Felstiner (a professor of mine at Stanford)
of a scar in the air.
Stand-for-no-one-and-nothing.
Unrecognized,
for you
alone.
With all that has room within it,
even without
language.
From Celan's Atemwende, trans. by John Felstiner (a professor of mine at Stanford)
Saturday, January 25, 2014
Broncos Menehune at Tropic Tap House in Honolulu...
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| The Broncos Menehune! Denver 26, New England 16! |
Walking by Punahou...
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To Paint a Portrait of a Bird
TO PAINT A PORTRAIT OF A BIRD
First paint a cage
with an open door
then paint
something pretty
something simple
something beautiful
something useful...
for the bird
then place the canvas against a tree
in a garden
in a wood
or in a forest
hide behind the tree
without speaking
without moving...
Sometimes the bird comes quickly
but he can just as well spend long years
before deciding
Don't get discouraged
wait
wait years if necessary
the swiftness or slowness of the coming
of the bird
comes
if he comes
observe the most profound silence
wait till the bird enters the cage
and when he has entered
gently close the door with a brush
then
paint out all the bars one by one
taking care not to touch any of the feathers of the bird
Then paint the portrait of the tree
choosing the most beautiful of its branches
for the bird
paint also the green foliage and the wind's freshness
the dust of the sun
and the noise of the insects in the summer heat
and then wait for the bird to decide to sing
if the bird doesn't sing
it's a bad sign
a sign that the painting is bad
but if he sings it's a good sign
a sign that you can sign
so then so very gently you pull out
one of the feathers of the bird
and write your name in a corner of the picture.
--Jacques Prevert, from Paroles
First paint a cage
with an open door
then paint
something pretty
something simple
something beautiful
something useful...
for the bird
then place the canvas against a tree
in a garden
in a wood
or in a forest
hide behind the tree
without speaking
without moving...
Sometimes the bird comes quickly
but he can just as well spend long years
before deciding
Don't get discouraged
wait
wait years if necessary
the swiftness or slowness of the coming
of the bird
comes
if he comes
observe the most profound silence
wait till the bird enters the cage
and when he has entered
gently close the door with a brush
then
paint out all the bars one by one
taking care not to touch any of the feathers of the bird
Then paint the portrait of the tree
choosing the most beautiful of its branches
for the bird
paint also the green foliage and the wind's freshness
the dust of the sun
and the noise of the insects in the summer heat
and then wait for the bird to decide to sing
if the bird doesn't sing
it's a bad sign
a sign that the painting is bad
but if he sings it's a good sign
a sign that you can sign
so then so very gently you pull out
one of the feathers of the bird
and write your name in a corner of the picture.
--Jacques Prevert, from Paroles
Monday, January 20, 2014
One more from Paroles...
THE LAST SUPPER
They are at table
They eat not
Nor touch their plates
And their plates stand straight up
Behind their heads.
-- Jacques Prevert, from Paroles
From Prevert's Paroles...
SCHOOL OF FINE ARTS
From a plaited basket
The father picked a little paper ball
And he threw it
In the bowl
Before his fascinated kids
Then sprang up
Multicolored
The great Japanese flower
Instantaneous water-lily
And the children were hushed
Wonderstruck
Never later in their memory
Could this flower fade
This sudden flower
Made for them
Instantly
Before them.
--Jacques Prevert, Paroles
From Tristes Tropiques...
"...Remembering is one of man's great pleasures, but not in so far as memory operates literally, since few individuals would agree to relive the fatigues and sufferings that they nevertheless delight in recalling. Memory is life itself, but of a different quality. And so, it is when the sun declines toward the polished surface of calm water, like alms bestowed by some heavenly miser, or when its disc outlines mountain summits like a hard, jagged leaf, that man is eminently able to receive, in a short-lived daydream, the revelation of the opaque forces, the mists and flashing lights that throughout the day he has dimly felt to be at war within himself..."From Tristes Tropiques, by Claude Levi-Strauss
An intercession
A
CORDOBA
O excelso muro, o torres coronadas
de
honor, de majestad, de gallardia!
O
gran río, gran rey de Andalucía,
de
arenas nobles, ya que non doradas!
O fértil llano, o sierras levantadas,
que
privilegia el cielo y dora el día!
O
siempre gloriosa pátria mía,
tanto
por plumas cuanto por espadas!
Si entre aquellas ruinas y despojos
que
enriquece Genil y Dauro baña
tu
memoria no fué alimento mio,
nunca merezcan mis ausentos ojos
ver
tu muro, tus torres y tu río,
tu
llano y sierra, o pátria, o flor de España!
-- Luis
de Góngora
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