Friday, October 30, 2009

Is This It?

Waving Adieu, Adieu, Adieu

That would be waving and that would be crying,
Crying and shouting and meaning farewell,
Farewell in the eyes and farewell at the center,
Just to stand still without moving a hand.

In a world without heaven to follow, the stops
Would be endings, more poignant than partings, profounder,
And that would be saying farewell, repeating farewell,
Just to be there and just to behold.

To be one's singular self, to despise
The being that yielded so little, acquired
So little, too little to care, to turn
To the ever-jubilant weather, to sip

One's cup and never to say a word,
Or to sleep or just to lie there still,
Just to be there, just to be beheld,
That would be bidding farewell, be bidding farewell.

One likes to practice the thing. They practice,
Enough, for heaven. Ever-jubilant,
What is there here but weather, what spirit
Have I except it comes from the sun?

Wallace Stevens

For the time being I can no longer pretend that I have the time or the motivation to continue blogging here on a regular basis. The nearly 300 posts since last year (counting the longer predecessor of "Blue to Blue") have been a fascinating project, well worth doing. But I have said many of the things I had to say, in this format at least, and circumstances have changed; there are real-life matters that need to be taken care of.

I may occasionally return if I have a poem or other bee in my bonnet that I can't resist sharing, but it won't be on any regular basis, and it would be for myself more than for anyone else. After the first of the year things may have settled down enough that I'll want to undertake something new. I will continue to follow some of the folks on the Blogroll from time to time. But as for this site, thanks for reading up to now.


Retriever said...

I will miss your posts and the poems. But wish you well. Hope the things beckoning prove rewarding.

Anonymous said...

Ok, so I'll still keep my rss feed of your blog. You do realise every post will now assume a weightier significance?

Anyway, we look forward to your random bursts of inspiration. Is inspiration ever otherwise? Perspiration on the contrary is a beastly calculated labour: much pain, stillborn ends, and the occasional kicking live one that makes it all worth more than the price of buying into life's unknown spaces.

Anonymous said...

Thanks for what you have done. It has been one of the few things I looked at regularly on the internet. Best wishes.

jon said...

I am saddened to hear this news. You will be missed. You are very intellegent, poigniant, and witty. Mostly, however, you are just a kind soul, in turbulent seas. Hang in there pal. Storms past and blue skies return.

Anonymous said...

As a reader from New York city who read's your ideas and poems for sometime now I will miss your ongoing words and thoughts.
Good luck and good wishes.
I have sent links to Psychiatrists
who are my friends (I am an artist)
and as expected heard no comments
which is why I liked your blog as
indeed you had feelings to share with the world.
My friends who are'Shrinks"keep their emotions,well hidden except
for Duke vs Maryland at March madness season.