Mr. Sun, His Ratiocination

It seems as Mr. Sun kneels down to pray each night the earth below responds—a ray of light, across a pool of shade, tired earth at rest in night’s still arc. Thus the earth’s worth, all its gracious growing, is a topic for admiration, a philanthropic metaphor, a formal language, found fierce, found daunting—like armorContinue reading “Mr. Sun, His Ratiocination”

Always Scream at the Sun

Night Look at that monster’s eye, Horatio; it’s like reflections of sunlight from moon to sea to clouds; it’s like reflections turned into existence, a contingency—our thoughts made real! Yet night is full of words, not spirits, not selves. Today, I think you can safely tell Hamlet he will not have vengeance on his staleContinue reading “Always Scream at the Sun”

Mr. Whistler’s Brilliant Replies

Imagine you’ve just created one of earth’s great paintings. It’s not your masterpiece but it’s a breakthrough. Call it ‘Nocturne in Black and Gold: The Falling Rocket.’ John Ruskin writes the following: . . . I have seen, and heard, much of Cockney impudence before now; but never expected to hear a coxcomb ask twoContinue reading “Mr. Whistler’s Brilliant Replies”