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George Oppen is one of my favorite poets.  Here is a bit of his biography:

George and Mary Oppen moved increasingly to the left during the Depression, becoming social activists and joining the Communist party in 1935. During this period Oppen's poems appeared in small journals such as Active Anthology, Poetry, and Hound and Horn, but he soon gave ( Read more... )

Saw Identity the other night.  Multiple personality sydrome is always interesting, even if fictional, as Joe says.  Made me think about what would happen if I fissured myself, what particle entities, what avatars, might fly free, find land and walk on their own.

Before, I have been

• The monocled and heartless Critic sitting, Germanic, alone in the ( Read more... )

Master Rub looks askance, nods his ears, hears: Others can't invest in changelings or something imperceptibly slow while he just flat out doesn't believe in numbers. Still he carries a fold-up abacus and scales in his sewn-on pocket. Certainty has weight enough to make beads and arms shake, and so does doubt. If he leans back, crosses one barbed ( Read more... )

Oh! The creature in yesterday's post -- the one with the wing, the tooth, etc. -- his name is Master Rub. And he wears the digs of a Dickensian street urchin. And a watch chain but no watch. And carries -- always -- in his right pocket a blue stone lifted -- innocently -- from a friend, and he rubs said stone to remember that the wind changes ( Read more... )

This job wears me out a lot. Too much customer service, too much the book mall. I have to say, though, that I can't help but smile when I help a kid like the one I just did ( Read more... )