Michael Herman has left Bowen Island, recuperated in Chicago for a wekk and is now in Nepal. His blog, the more and more aptly named “Global Chicago” is being maintained at the Global Chicago Wiki, in a place called GlobalChicago: PracticingInNepal. Saves on bandwidth and dialup charges. His journey to Asia promises to be worth keeping tabs on.
Moon and Mars together Photo by Allan Gould This is a photo of Mars out beyond the limb of the Moon. It took me years of looking into the sky to convince my mind that when I look up there I am not seeing a two dimensional surface. Sometimes it helps to really focus on the moon as a sphere, and then it becomes clear, once one astronomical body has depth, that everything else lies in a field that extends away from us. I think we are somehow conditioned to see the sky as a roof, a sensation that cathedral …
Oh my goodness…the folks at BlogsCanada have included Parking Lot in their list of top Canadian blogs for this month. I am truly flattered. Go visit the list for some great Canadian reading. Thanks to judges Jay Currie and Jim Elves, and all of you anonymous folks who nominated this humble scratch pad.
Nelly’s Poem by Etel Adnan From the Lebanese Women’s Association site I conclude this survey of Tammuzi poets with some lines from the Lebanese poet and painter Etel Adnan from her long poem “The Spring Flowers Own“: I see heading East the pearl-colored march of clouds roses lend their blood to young soldiers drowning in the Tigris flowers triumph over the human race their tragedies are short-lived their agonies exude incense and myrrh at the entrance of temples they are the ones to be eternally eternal. I envy their youth their lucency their quiddity we are the shadows and they, …
Another nice collection of Arabic poetry in English is online at Kikah. Among the poets there is the innovative free verse pioneer Badr Shakir al-Sayyab who died in 1964 as the Tammuzi poets’ moment was drawing to a close. His poem Return to Jaykur starts like this: I roamed the hills on the grey horse of a dream fled the outstretched vistas, fled the marketplace teeming with vendors, fled the weary morning, the barking night, the quiet passers-by, the gloomy light, fled the wine-drenched landlord, fled the shame decked in flowers and death in its leisurely stroll along the river’s …