Artaud: Poetry layer beneath the poetry
“Beneath the poetry of the texts, there is the actual poetry,
without form and without text.” –Antonin Artaud, poet, essayist, playwright, actor & director
“Beneath the poetry of the texts, there is the actual poetry,
without form and without text.” –Antonin Artaud, poet, essayist, playwright, actor & director
You’ll recall I received two dozen roses this Valentine’s Day. As it turns out, both bouquets were from one man, my sweetheart of yore, my dear-hearted friend of now, Daniel Holland, of Lake County in Northern California. As it turns out, Daniel ordered one dozen roses and Fortune multiplied his order by two. The arithmetic…
In an article originally published in American Poet, the biannual journal published by the Academy of American Poets for its members, Eavan Boland talked about a “transnational poetics.” I was particularly fascinated by her comparison and contrast of American and Irish culture and the poetic communities each country fostered–and how this shaped the poetry that…
“Deep listening from the heart is one half of true communication. Speaking from the heart is the other half.” —Sara Paddison, author Hidden Power of the Heart When I sent this quotation to my friend Grace Madison (she is the mother of Curt Madison, one of my high school chums who know bases in Alaska),…
by Billy Collins from The Apple that Astonished Paris During my Poem-of-the-Day series on Riehlife we’ll have a mixture of named poets & others just like the rest of us. My friend Stephanie Farrow in Albuquerque, New Mexico chooses the Big Name Poets. She sends her picks out via email every day. I’ll be scooping…
We have Maurice Hirsch’s mentor and friend, Catherine Rankovic, to thank for today’s Poem-of-the-Day. Welcome! He joins us from Chesterfield, Missouri. Here’s some background he’s shared on his poem “Sparta, Illinois–1963” We lived and worked in Sparta from 1962-1964. It was a tipping point in the transition of this town/area from segregation toward integration in…
She walks in beauty, like the night.—Lord Byron Walking the Beauty Way. –Navajo I stand in my Mother’s shoes—a few sizes too big for me. Mother is dead and gone. She has passed over. I stand in my sister’s shoes—a few sizes too big for me. Julia is dead and gone. She has passed over….