the archivist October 15, 2012

In the day-to-day trenches of adult life, there is actually no such thing as atheism. There is no such thing as not worshipping. Everybody worships. The only choice we get is what to worship. And an outstanding reason for choosing some sort of God or spiritual-type thing to worship — be it J.C. or Allah, […]

the archivist September 14, 2012

Ars Poetica by Archibald MacLeish A poem should be palpable and mute As a globed fruit, Dumb As old medallions to the thumb, Silent as the sleeve-worn stone Of casement ledges where the moss has grown— A poem should be wordless As the flight of birds. * A poem should be motionless in time As […]

the archivist September 6, 2010

I know this is going around rather rapidly, but just in case you haven’t seen it… Danny & Annie from StoryCorps on Vimeo. via Danny & Annie on Vimeo.

the archivist May 31, 2010

I had the first couple of lines, with their curious, beautiful syntax, stuck in my head today. I struggled to recall where they were from. Shakespeare, obviously, but where? One of the plays with end-rhymed soliloquies? That narrows it, but contextually, they could fit in many places. Shakespeare is full of suitable matches. I had […]

the archivist January 18, 2007

Sonnet XIX: You Cannot Love Michael Drayton (1563-1631) To Humor You cannot love, my pretty heart, and why? There was a time you told me that you would; But now again you will the same deny, If it might please you, would to God you could. What, will you hate? Nay, that you will not, […]

the archivist January 11, 2007

The Indian Serenade Percy Bysshe Shelley I arise from dreams of thee In the first sweet sleep of night, When the winds are breathing low, And the stars are shining bright: I arise from dreams of thee, And a spirit in my feet Hath led me—who knows how? To thy chamber window, Sweet! The wandering […]

the archivist July 18, 2006

379. Song—Fragment—Love for love Robert Burns ITHERS seek they ken na what, Features, carriage, and a’ that; Gie me love in her I court, Love to love maks a’ the sport. Let love sparkle in her e’e; Let her lo’e nae man but me; That’s the tocher-gude I prize, There the luver’s treasure lies.

the archivist June 18, 2006

X Elizabeth Barrett Browning Yet, love, mere love, is beautiful indeed And worthy of acceptation. Fire is bright, Let temple burn, or flax; an equal light Leaps in the flame from cedar-plank or weed: And love is fire. And when I say at need I love thee . . . mark! . . . I […]