Congratulations to Richard and Aimee on the birth of their son yesterday!
Jeebus, when he is Planet's age it will be 2037, when he is my age it will be 2070. 2070. What world?
Hey, Second Draft, sadly, serendipitously, partly about the other end of life:
- The Unhinged Shutter.
- What does it mean to be complicit with social injustice?
- In the aftermath of Charleston.
- The care and feeding of a financial black hole.
- Anti-social epistemology.
- Towards a politics of information.
- The Gay White Bogeymen.
- Either civil marriage is secular, or sacramental marriage has no civil form. Choose.
- Fasc. of Titans.
- Academic publishers reap profits while libraries go broke.
- Words inside a copy of Gilead.
- Josipovici, for those of you who do.
- OK, here's one standing still for you not to read.
Lately having escaped three-kinded death
Not by evasion but by coming through
I celebrate what may be true beginning.
But new begun am most without resource
Stupid and stopped. How do the newborn grow?
I am of them. Freshness has taken our hearts;
Pain strips us to the source, infants of further life
Waiting for childhood as we wait for form.
So came I into the world of all the living,
The maimed triumphant middle of my way
Where there is giving needing no forgetting.
Saw not the present that is here to say:
Nothing I wrote is what I must see written,
Nothing I did is what I know need done. --
The smile of darkness on my song and my son.
Lately emerged I have seen unfounded houses,
Have seen spirits now opened, surrounded as by sun,
And have, among limitless consensual faces
Watched all things change, an unbuilt house inherit
Materials of desire, that stone and wood and air.
Lit by a birth, I defend dark beginnings,
Waste that is never waste, most-human giving,
Declared and clear as the mortal body of grace.
Beginnings of truth-in-life, the rooms of wilderness
Where truth feeds and the ramifying heart,
Ever mine, praising even the past in its pieces,
My tearflesh beckoner who brought me to this place.