Jim Harrison writes about Red Pine
Posted: May 9, 2016 Filed under: books, Buddhism Zen, poetry, writers Leave a comment
Red Pine, Stonehouse and Gary Snyder are mentioned in Jim Harrison’s new trilogy of novellas that was just released, The Ancient Minstrel:
“After attending and giving at least a hundred poetry readings he could remember only one that struck him as a hundred percent genuine and honest. A poet named, simply enough, Red Pine read from an ancient Chinese poet he had translated, called Stonehouse. Red Pine read with quiet integrity just what he translated. Usually after a reading he was in a private snit and needed a drink, but now he walked down and looked at the harbor, his spine still tingling. The other true exception was Gary Snyder. He never wanted Snyder’s readings to end.”
Daylight
Posted: February 27, 2016 Filed under: people, photography, poetry, time and space, writers Leave a comment
Did you notice the daylight today?
The days are short in December.
It comes before dark. Sometimes it passes
in a hurry to get someplace else
More friendly perhaps. Fiji maybe.
We become forgetful and miss it some days.
In March there were six different warblers
in one willow bush. What else could
you possibly want from daylight?
– Jim Harrison, Dead Man’s Float
Finger Snapping Time
Posted: February 21, 2016 Filed under: buddhism, people, photography, poetry, writers Leave a comment
Photograph of Blue Heron by Jesse Sublett
People can’t explain why they’re so crazy
The two evil birds on their faces
The three poison snakes in their hearts
One or another blocks their way
Making it hard to get hold of things
Lift your hand high and snap your fingers
Homage to the Buddha
– Poem #223 from The Collected Songs of Cold Mountain, translated from Chinese by Red Pine
First You Must Last
Posted: August 17, 2015 Filed under: books, sight seeing, writers | Tags: ernest hemingway, writers Leave a comment
Ernest Hemingway’s boyhood home in Oak Park, Ill. “Il faut, d’abord, durer.” – (“First of all, one must endure.”) – A saying of Hemingway, from a letter.
