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David J. Bauman
Goodreads Author
Born
Lock Haven, PA, The United States
Website
Twitter
Genre
Member Since
August 2012
URL
https://www.goodreads.com/david_j_bauman
Civilians and the Wounded Line, Poetry with Jehanne Dubrow
This morning, this episode went live, making it seven weeks in a row so far. Thank you for your kind words of encouragement and support!
If you’d like to follow the podcast, either listen below or wherever you listen to podcasts. We’re even on YouTube, if that’s your jam. You can listen on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, iHeart Radio, and a whole bunch other podcast platforms.
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David’s Recent Updates
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David J. Bauman
wrote a new blog post
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David
made a comment on
his review
of
Rules For The Dance: A Handbook for Writing and Reading Metrical Verse
"
I think so? This is about metrical verse. I may have reviewed the wrong book 😓
"
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David
rated a book it was amazing
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| I adore this book. Someone called it "outdated." Sigh. I suppose Huck Finn is outdated too, as is Shakespeare, but come on. This is a classic. I get it, though. I'm a librarian, so I know that if the books look old or dated, kids don't want to read i ...more | |
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David
wants to read
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David
liked an answer from
Mike Russell:
They acquired me! I suspect that they orchestrated the circumstances that led to me living with them. I am their slave but I love them.
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David
is now following
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“There was never any more inception than there is now,
Nor any more youth or age than there is now;
And will never be any more perfection than there is now,
Nor any more heaven or hell than there is now.”
― Leaves of Grass
Nor any more youth or age than there is now;
And will never be any more perfection than there is now,
Nor any more heaven or hell than there is now.”
― Leaves of Grass
“When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, "Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.”
―
―
“Love After Love
The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other's welcome,
and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you
all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.”
― Collected Poems, 1948-1984
The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other's welcome,
and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you
all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.”
― Collected Poems, 1948-1984
“I read; I travel; I become”
―
―
“Now I am quietly waiting for
the catastrophe of my personality
to seem beautiful again,
and interesting, and modern.
The country is grey and
brown and white in trees,
snows and skies of laughter
always diminishing, less funny
not just darker, not just grey.
It may be the coldest day of
the year, what does he think of
that? I mean, what do I? And if I do,
perhaps I am myself again.”
― Meditations in an Emergency
the catastrophe of my personality
to seem beautiful again,
and interesting, and modern.
The country is grey and
brown and white in trees,
snows and skies of laughter
always diminishing, less funny
not just darker, not just grey.
It may be the coldest day of
the year, what does he think of
that? I mean, what do I? And if I do,
perhaps I am myself again.”
― Meditations in an Emergency
