— Frank Bidart

The Thin Red Line

The second episode in my podcast, Pilgrims and Parables where I talk about the transcendence of films, growing up in the womb of such art, Terrence Malick’s prophetic genius and the melancholic poetry he weaves on celluloid in his magnum opus, The Thin Red Line.

open.spotify.com/episode/5zNA...

John Berger quoting an Egyptian poet from three thousand five hundred years ago.

‘States of Matter’

- Goodstein

I am thrilled to know of my haiku acceptance from The Asahi Shimbun, a melting pot of endless heritage and one of Japan’s oldest and longest-running newspapers, in circulation since 1879. @asahi.com

Talk about a swashbuckler of an introduction.

And he was not old enough to talk and say nothing at the same time.

“Only an idiot has no grief; only a fool would forget it. What else is there in this world sharp enough to stick to your guts?”

- The Sound and The Fury, William Faulkner.

A poem or a memory?

The Last Samurai

‘Then he was home again. Perhaps he expected to be punished upon his return, for what, what crime exactly, he did not expect to know, since he had already learned that, though children can accept adults as adults, adults can never accept children as anything but adults too.’

- Light in August

What is it like?

A poem to split you open.

Ana Božičević

My favourite poster growing up.

And favourite player too.

Air Jonty.

@jontyrhodes.bsky.social

Everybody wears their hunger and their haunt.

‘I am an old man and have known many troubles, most of which never happened.’

- Mark Twain

"There are no soft stanzas / in this city of curb sleep and murdered children."

- Patricia Smith, Stop the Presses.

Children?

— Megan Fernandes

There was something essentially authentic, honest and real about the grain that makes up life back then.

Could be any of us?

Familiar?

The best place to grieve.

You hold an absence
at your center,
as if it were a life.

I see my life in this poem. I see this poem in my life.

The poem that never ends.

december's unending snow

i wait motionless to gather this small world

in my ordinary hands

There is a silk ladder unrolled across the ivy
There is
That leaning over the precipice
Of the hopeless fusion of your presence and absence
I have found the secret
Of loving you
Always for the first time

- Always For The First Time by André Breton.

One’s seduced into rooting for Scar.

That said, this film and in general the state of art today is abysmal.

#MufasaTheLionKing