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Dialectic seizure
I am in a linguist's paradise. Every time one of the locals speaks my head explodes, coding phonological and grammatical nuances, riding the intonation coaster and, more prevalently, listening-with-effort for snatches of speech that I can comprehend.
Apparently it's a mausey day outside. Hello, Newfoundland.
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from Speaking and Language
Not speaking and speaking are both human ways of being in the world, and there are kinds and grades of each. There is the dumb silence of slumber or apathy; the sober silence that goes with a solemn animal face; the fertile silence of awareness, pasturing the soul, whence emerge new thoughts; the alive silence of alert perception, ready to say, “ ( Read more... ) -
from The Friary at Blossom, Prologue & Instructions
The pond-lilies are like little executions ( Read more... ) -
from What the Men Talk about When the Women Leave the Room
The room itself. The women. The absence of women ( Read more... ) -
Meditation at Dave's Foxhead after Robert Hass
All the new drinking is about loss ( Read more... ) -
Here Follows an Account of the Nature of Birds
Here Follows an Account of the Nature of Fish ( Read more... ) -
Blue, from The Drowned Girl
The house is blue, milky and narcotic. The round shingles like petals, a ( Read more... ) -
Waking at 3 a.m.
Even in the cave of the night when you ( Read more... ) -
The Hippie Church I was Raised in Doesn't Believe in Sin
But I don't know what to do when my body becomes ( Read more... )