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[The Meaning Comes Close]

Both indulgently prosaic and absurdly poetic, with plenty of in-jokes for computer nerds and literature nerds alike, this beautiful chapbook will make you laugh, cry, and/or hate the authors.

Any review of literature in translation is also a review of the translation. And in this act, the review is also, in part, a comment on the endeavor of translation itself.

To me the only true failure, and it is an aesthetic failure more than a moral failure, is to be blind to the beauty that lies embedded in the ferocity, and merciless vitality of life itself--the risen Lord in the daily and lowly and broken sprawl of things.

Portland just feels different.

[“ΈΑ ΕΚΕΙΝΑ”']

You want to have an open sesame for every soul you encounter. You want something to open in them and for them, and when you are at your best, you don't care if they ever say thank you.

The conflict between eternity and time is deeply embedded in the consciousness of human persons.

[The Scottish Play]

[from PEOPLE THOUGHTS]

Language is often a hopeless (thank God) matter of almosts that fail to be 100 percent accurate

I’d like you, for a moment, to think of writing not as a calling or gift or pipe dream, not even a profession or hobby. Instead, I’d like you to think of writing as a habit.

[Sad Indianapolis]

I’ve been thinking about what Robert Kelly wrote in the early 60s about each image in a poem having “its field of force, its shadow moving darkly through the poem.”

If you want to escape all rhetoric, you are out of luck.

The echoes of her pain are still reverberating, like a mechanical baby doll, crying forever: a baby, our baby, who can never be soothed.