Men have been spit up onto shore by whales and great fish since the beginning of time. This has been going on for forever; perhaps, even longer than forever. This may be true. It may also be true that men have spit whales and great fish up onto shore since the beginning of time. This has also been going on or forever; perhaps, even longer than forever. Which of these happened first, I cannot say. Who knows; who can say? Regardless, before being spit up on land both men and fish sat idly by inside the bellies of their captors, ruminating on their fate-wondering what it all meant-what it all means. Men and fish and everything alive wonder about life, and how they fit into it and it into them; as much as they are able to wonder. Some men I have met seem to wonder less than some fish I have met. Who knows; who can say? Our lives are about wondering: wondering about our lives. Each and every living thing yearns toward growth. This longing is nothing but an eternal search, an eternal wondering about everything that is. At some point we lose the beginning into the end; and what came first is dissolved into the ongoing process. Fish then man, or man then fish, no one can say which came first. All we know is that we are held captive, we ruminate, and then we are spit out into a rebirth. Our mythic journeys as men are like this. Sometimes you cannot tell which came first, the idea that you are a man and that you should do a certain thing because of that; or the doing of a certain thing and then later realizing or deciding that you did it because you are a man. Which came first the fish or the man? You cannot be sure and when you think you have become sure, things shift.
... Or if the secret ministry of frost Shall hang them up in silent icicles, ... A Noiseless Patient Spider A noiseless patient spider, I mark'd where on a ...
An anthology of some of the best English poems.
Combining journal entries, poetry and formal e-mails, these books celebrate the sights, sounds, flavors, (and the physical and mental strain), of crossing mountains, rolling landscapes, and unchanged rural villages, as well as vibrant ...
There are no Formal E-mails, no Definitions, no Autobiography or Research here. And because of all that it is not, this book completes those first two in the pilgrimage series in a gentle way.
Karen Freeman! Was born August 22, 1950 in Newark New Jersey. She had a “BRIGHT” daughter named Kira. She Married Warren W. C. Freeman March 1, 1998. They were married for 13 years and 20 days. She “PASSED-ON” March 21, 2011.
Winner of the Massachusetts Book Award "A terrific and sometimes terrifying collection—morally complex, rhythmic, tough-minded, and original." —Rosanna Warren, 2018 Barnard Women Poets Prize citation In a poetic voice at once accessible ...
O. D. Macrae Gibson points out that the function of pyȝt as a concatenating word stresses its capacity to mean both arrayed and set.8 Gordon glosses the word as varying in sense throughout the poem between “set,” “fixed,” and “adorned” ...
This riveting poetry collection is a fresh and witty account of thoughts and experiences that everyday people have in their day-to-day lives.
SELL. IT. SOMEWHERE. ELSE. Well, you can take your good looks somewhere else Cuz they're not for sale 'round here... I've heard about you and the things you do And I don't need you anywhere near. Yeah, I've met your kind a time or two ...
I was indeed fortunate in being able to recruit a pair of talented , conscientious , and unfailingly cheerful draftsmen in the persons of Julie Baker and Kathi Donahue ( now Sherwood ) to collaborate with my wife , Sally , in producing ...