R.L. Swihart's Blog, page 66

Brown Creeper

Brown Creeper near Hummock Pond, Nantucket. I was shooting some swans at the edge of  a lawn and when I went back to the road he went from hide and seek in the mossy tree to perfect poses on my side of the tree. Yippie. Lifer.

#rlswihart13 #nantucket #hummockpond #birdsofnantucket #birdsofinstagram #browncreeper #nature #beauty #mossytrees #poetry #readmorepoetry2021

Moby Dick

 A visit to Nantucket got me start thinking about Melville (we stayed in the Jared Coffin House) -- I've always been a fan of Bartleby -- and now I'm attempting Moby Dick for the second time. So far so good but it's early (Ch. 26):

"I will have no man in my boat," said Starbuck, "who is not afraid of a whale." By this, he seemed to mean, not only that the most reliable and useful courage was that which arises from the fair estimation of the encountered peril, but that an utterly fearless man is a far more dangerous comrade than a coward.

Free Poetry (Kindle EBooks) by R L Swihart

Every so often I get to give my Kindle Ebooks away (you'll have to spend your $$$ for the paper). Consider this an early Christmas/Holiday gift. From midnight tonight (Friday 12:00 AM) to midnight on Nov. 16, you should be able to download all three books for free @ Amazon.com.

Merry Christmas!!!

🧑‍🎄🧑‍🎄🧑‍🎄

#rlswihart13 #frommyhousetoyours #merryxmas #amazon #rlswihart #thelastman #matmanandtestudo #woodhenge #poetrygiveaway #readmorepoetry2021

Clew

In The Murders of the Rue Morgue, Poe opted for the older spelling of clue: "clew" is the older "clue." Once a ball of thread it became "by way of" Ariadne's ball of thread the "clue" of detective stories

TeWinkle Park: Mandarin Ducks

Mandarin Ducks @ TeWinkle Park in Costa Mesa. Two pairs this morning, the only other "shooter" said yesterday there were three pairs. Little else there -- beautiful park, Canada Geese, Egyptian Geese, Mallards, Muscovy Ducks -- but maybe I'll return tomorrow. Maybe I'll catch the third pair. Catch them flying. Anyway, maybe the most beautiful duck I've "shot" thus far. Shame on you, hunters. 

#rlswihart13 #costamesa #tewinklepark #ducksofinstagram #mandarinducks #ducks #beauty #waterfowl #wildlife #poetry #readmorepoetry2021

From Necropolis: Gorky

He liked absolutely any person who introduced an element of rebellion or, at the very least, mischief, into the world—up to and including maniacs and arsonists, whom he wrote about extensively and was happy to talk about for hours on end. He was a bit of an arsonist himself. Not once did I ever see him put out a match after lighting a cigarette: he would invariably throw the match away unextinguished. After lunch or during his evening tea, when the ashtray would be filled with a sufficient quantity of cigarette butts, matches, and papers, he made it his cherished habit to furtively shove a lit match inside the pile. After doing so, he would attempt to distract the attention of those around him—while he himself cast cunning glances over his shoulder at the blazing bonfire. It seemed that these “little family fires,” as I once suggested calling them, took on a certain wicked and joyful symbolic meaning in his eyes. He felt great respect for the experiments being done in atomic fission; he would often talk about how, for example, if the scientists were to succeed, a stone picked up from the street could produce enough energy to facilitate interplanetary communication. But he said this in a weary, hackneyed tone of voice. It was as if he was only doing it so that he could put in at the very end, in a fervent and merry fashion, that “one fine day, these experiments, hm, yes, you understand, could lead to the destruction of our universe. Now that will be a fire!” And then he would cluck his tongue.

From Necropolis: Gorky

 I lived a good distance away from Gorky. Walking the streets at night was exhausting and not without its dangers: a person could get robbed. For this reason, it was not uncommon for me to stay the night; a bed would be made up for me on the divan that stood in the dining room. Late in the evening, the hustle and bustle would die down. The hour would arrive for the family to take their tea. I served as an audience for Gorky’s much-loved reminiscences, the ones that he always trotted out when he wished to “charm” his new acquaintances. Later on, I would learn that these stories were rather limited in number and that, though they retained the appearance of improvisations, they would repeat themselves verbatim, year after year. More than once, I came across character sketches written by people who had happened to visit Gorky’s at one time or another and each time I would laugh when I arrived at the stereotypical phrase: “Alexei Maximovich’s thoughts unexpectedly turn toward the past, and he involuntarily gives himself over to his reminiscences.” In any case, these false improvisations were magnificently rendered. I would listen to them with great pleasure, without understanding why the rest of his audience would be winking at one another and disappearing off to their own rooms one by one. Later on—though now I repent of it—I would do the exact same thing myself, but, in those days, I relished the nocturnal hours when Gorky and I would remain alone together beside the long-cold samovar. We gradually grew closer to each other in those hours.

From Necropolis: Esenin

 In 1917, Klyuev’s influence, which essentially resonated with Esenin’s own worldview, gave way to the influence of the left-wing SRs. It was at that time that the SRs explained to Esenin that the Rus’ that was to come, the one he had been dreaming of, was, in fact, the new state. This new state would also be built on a religious foundation: not on a pagan or a Christian foundation, but, rather, on a socialist one; not on a faith in redeeming gods, but on faith in the self-organized human being. They explained to him that “there is socialism and then there is Socialism”—that socialism with a lowercase letter is merely a social and political program, but that there is Socialism with a capital letter, too: a “religious idea, a new faith and a new knowledge to which the knowledge and old faith of Christianity are giving way…The best even of professional Christian theologians see this, know this.” “The new universal idea (Socialism) will act as dynamite; it will break the chains that Christianity has fastened even more securely over the human body than ever before.” “In Christianity, the whole world was saved by the sufferings of one Person: in the Socialism that is to come, each person will be saved by the sufferings of the whole world.”

Bolsa Chica: Three Videos

 Three videos (Lumix FZ300 4K Burst) from this morning @ Bolsa Chica. While the videos are "passable" the still "extracts" are not. I tried. At that time of the morning (6 - 8), and with a marine layer, that's the lay of the land. Coyote, Kingfisher, Juvenile Cowbirds.

#rl_swihart13 #huntingtonbeachca #bolsachicareserve #coyote #kingfisher #juvenilecowbird #nature #beauty #earlymorning #poetry #videos #readmorepoetry2021

New Poem in Offcourse #86

Sorta an anti-poem poem: Notes on "Description of a Struggle." Perhaps towo many allusions for most. Give it a look anyhoo. I have some "simpler" poems coming out eventually. Thanks to Ricardo and Isabel Nirenberg @ Offcourse. Simply the best.

https://www.albany.edu/offcourse/issu...