Down roughcast, down dazzling whitewash, ' wherever an elm arches,
Shivelights and shadowtackle in long ' lashes lace, lance, and pair.
Delightfully the bright wind boisterous ' ropes, wrestles, beats earth bare
- G. M. Hopkins

watch this


"I heard the old, old men say,
'Everything alters,
And one by one we drop away.'
They had hands like claws, and their knees
Were twisted like the old thorn-trees
By the waters.
'All that's beautiful drifts away
Like the waters.'
-W. B. Yeats

end of the year papers; grey grey thunder and rumblingness
and recording all finished

empty quiet in the house
and rather in love with Richard Avedon (who isn't?)

sounds of today here


'You gave me hyacinths first a year ago;
'They called me the hyacinth girl.'
—Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden,
Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not
Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither
Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,
Looking into the heart of light, the silence.
Od' und leer das Meer.
- T.S.E.

desolate and void the sea

sound of today: here


trains. baggage. rain. records.

I brought back about 30 vinyls from the North - a completely spontaneous buy I couldn't be happier about. Successfully navigated the big northern S with only a dinky map and my highly imperfect sense of direction (that's a serious first). And after standing before a microphone all day today, home has never looked so good. I will post pictures from the travel as soon as they are developed. In the meantime, I suggest looking up some Denise Levertov to read.


Better than any argument is to rise at dawn and pick dew-wet red berries in a cup
- Wendell Berry

That's my new favorite quote & i'm putting it everywhere;
I'd like to letterpress it.

This week has way too much Shakesperian tragedies in it. But, the romance of travel is soon to be mine - and in a train no less! I haven't been in one since I was two. Maybe I'll take some Wendell B. with me...I'm dying to dive into this.

And for those of you who share my borderline obsessive-compulsive notebook lust, check this out.

Here's to the perfectly watery-wet-warm weather
and the words of Rilke:

You, God, who live next door –
If at times, through the long night, I trouble you
with my urgent knocking –
this is why: I hear you breath so seldom.
I know you're all alone in that room.
If you should be thristy, there's no one
to get you a glass of water.

I wait listening, always. Just give me a sign!
I'm right here.


the wimpled
-water-dimpled, not-by-morning-matched face

- G. M. Hopkins

I'm being stalked by Ezra Pound, no joke. He follows me around in a pickup truck in my dreams, his face shaded by a baseball cap yet still unmistakable, and it seems like everything I open these days - there he is! Did you know the Wasteland was dedicated to him by T.S.E.? Well, neither did I, 'til I innocently opened to the first page yesterday to find "to Ezra Pound" staring back at me.
But I figure if its got to be someone, Ezra Pound isn't all that bad.

Aside from Ezra sightings, this spring is glorious! I'm eagerly anticipating the arrival of Ron Hansen's Exiles in the mail - at last a good writer writing on George Manley Hopkins!

Sounds of today: here

'Tis after teatime and I really shouldn't be on here - but! this beauty came to me today and I had to celebrate it by putting up some old photos and dancing a little jig in this actually warm (!) sunshine today.


But I have that within which passes show,
These but the trappings and the suits of woe.
- Hamlet

I'm rather in love with this play right now. I rather detest the rest of Shakespeare's tragedies, but Hamlet has such power and tangible emotion.

pictures above from a ramble with my Diana last spring

I'm rather excited about a new project: ISBN. The Informal Society of Books and Notions is a place for writers and readers to come together and share their thoughts while tackling a book together each month. After Hansen, there will be Berry and Dillard and McCarthy. Nothing makes the summer so good as good books. Come join us if you'd like to share the adventure!


Dawn-sniffing revenant,
Plodder through midnight rain,
Question me again.
- Seamus Heaney

If you're here in ptown, visit the Crafty Wonderland at the Convention Center & say goodbye to Abby Try Again. She is moving away & we will miss her photography of Portland so very much!

above, latest bookplate letterpress project
it was a lot less planned than the last, but I don't mind the unfinished quality
especially that S
who knew it'd turn out that way?
thats the magic of wooden type - it tells its own story when pressed.

sounds of today here