Z e t e o
Reading, Looking, Listening, . . . Questioning
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♦ What would happen if God leaned down and gave you a full, wet kiss?            — Daniel Ladinsky   Some words, like people, move us before we’re really aware of what’s happening. We return the glance from across the room instantaneously, spontaneously. Sometimes words are like that, a contagious spark. We dance in the […]

Magritte, L'Oasis (The Oasis), 1925-1927

Let the broken glass and the china lie out on the lawn and be tangled over with grass and wild berries.   Listening (had there been any one to listen) from the upper rooms of the empty house only gigantic chaos streaked with lightning could have been heard tumbling and tossing, as the winds and […]

ZiR

Of course, [pornography and poetry] probably benefit [from the Internet] for different reasons: pornography because people really want it a lot but are embarrassed to go get it in person; poetry because people don’t want it that much, so it helps if they can get it for free without ever even leaving their desk chairs. […]

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Who is Steven Seagal? A few years back, I was visiting Las Vegas with a friend. While waiting in the ticket line for the aquarium at Mandalay Bay, my friend nudged me and whispered, “Look! Heather, it’s Steven Seagal.” Having no idea who that was, I replied, not loudly but not whispering either, “Who is […]

ZiR
Categories: Ed Mooney, ZiR | 3 Comments

Images have impact! In my previous post, Zeteo 10/04, I considered Rilke’s poem “The Archaic Torso of Apollo,” where the poet conjures the image of a broken statue of Apollo as he views it in a museum. He traces the impact as his eyes follow the contours of the god’s torso. The image — what […]

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And have you changed your life? A while back, in Zeteo 9/20, prompted by some remarks of E. O. Wilson, I wondered about the human need for epic, perhaps a religious epic, with roots in the Darwinian saga of creation. An epic or saga appears on a big screen. If we are concerned for the […]

ZiR

Poems can sometimes behave like short stories, like very short stories. They set the scene, bring the reader in and then leave them with an uncertain longing. In just fifteen lines, the poem below tells the story of two couples, of neighbors, of marriage, of winter. The title lets the reader know what to expect […]

ZiR
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Everything after aches river & bones & the unsaid naming itself endlessly. He comes to me in dreams, and I reach for needle & thread to close the tear at his knee. This morning I found ants in the saltshaker, a pattern repeated in new snow peppered with black walnuts. I confess, with my tongue […]

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How many in Los Angeles will care about the legacy of Martin Heidegger? Fans of the American film writer and director Terrence Malick might care, but they’re unlikely to live in LA. Malick translated Heidegger as a Harvard philosophy graduate student, and traces can be found in his films. LA fans of The Los Angles […]

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sometimes I forget what country I’m in I could write poems in bed I think have some Americans look at your awful mov- ie to tell you when you’re wrong & just racist. I got this bug bite that could be anything. — the opening lines of Dissolution, by Eileen Myles[1]   The August 24 […]

ZiR

Juan Felipe Herrera’s story is a nice one. Born in California in 1948, he grew up picking crops with his migrant worker parents in the San Joaquin and Salinas Valleys.  After graduating from San Diego High School, Herrera went on to complete degrees at UCLA, Stanford and the prestigious University of Iowa Writers’ Workshop. He has […]

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Categories: Essay | 1 Comment
Frank Kermode, August 2000, photo by Charlie MacDonald

Juan Felipe Herrera’s story is a nice one. Born in California in 1948, he grew up picking crops with his migrant worker parents in the San Joaquin and Salinas Valleys.  After graduating from San Diego High School, Herrera went on to complete degrees at UCLA, Stanford and the prestigious University of Iowa Writers’ Workshop. He has […]

Essay

June 14, 2018

The time that takes place in stories compared to the time that we actually live is radically abbreviated. It briskly sweeps aside all the commonplace moments that make up the long stretch of toilsome time and focuses instead on the interesting and compelling. With a mere section break or a simple transitional phrase, days, months, and whole years are disposed of as if they had no significance at all. “Then time passed slowly until the day arrived when….” A lot of important living is hidden in such a phrase. From the moment-to-moment flow of time, the storyteller lifts out only those narr...

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Categories: Essay | 1 Comment
Frank Kermode, August 2000, photo by Charlie MacDonald

Juan Felipe Herrera’s story is a nice one. Born in California in 1948, he grew up picking crops with his migrant worker parents in the San Joaquin and Salinas Valleys.  After graduating from San Diego High School, Herrera went on to complete degrees at UCLA, Stanford and the prestigious University of Iowa Writers’ Workshop. He has […]

Essay

May 11, 2018

Using personal essay, literary reference, and journalistic voice, the article plants itself on our existential doorstep while illuminating Barnes' novel one more time. Very strong. Thanks.

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Categories: Essay | 1 Comment
Frank Kermode, August 2000, photo by Charlie MacDonald

Juan Felipe Herrera’s story is a nice one. Born in California in 1948, he grew up picking crops with his migrant worker parents in the San Joaquin and Salinas Valleys.  After graduating from San Diego High School, Herrera went on to complete degrees at UCLA, Stanford and the prestigious University of Iowa Writers’ Workshop. He has […]

Essay

May 10, 2018

"When these new memories suddenly came upon me … time had been placed in reverse. As if, for that moment, the river ran upstream." Stolen from Barnes's book for my poem "From the Vale for a Soul Making". Great book to write about.

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