On craziness…

And I hadn’t even turned on the tv or gotten the paper yet…

Well, I had skimmed through FaceBook, but that’s not really the craziness I was refering to. Just the craziness of daily life sometimes. When we have back-to-back weeks juggling multiple meetings, being everywhere, wading through a tsunami of email…

Until you finally have a couple of free weekends sandwiching a light schedule at work. Not that you’re going to be any less busy. After all, you’ve got all those personal and professional to-do list items that were swept aside by the hectic schedule, to work on. But it’s your schedule, you feel in control again…

Not looking ahead to the week coming up, the week when the craziness begins again.

Sunday Guests: Ezra Pound

I don’t feel I can adequately introduce Mr. Pound. He and I have only just met. But, I feel that we’ll be getting along splendidly since what he’s said so far, strikes a cord within me.

And The Days Are Not Full Enough

And the days are not full enough
And the nights are not full enough
And life slips by like a field mouse
Not shaking the grass

In A Station Of The Metro

The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
petals on a wet, black bough.

Excuse me now, I’m going off to have some quiet time and conversation with Mr. Pound. Before I go, let me tell you, don’t let his sour looks deceive you, he’s an intense fellow and intensely interesting. An expat you know, buried in Italy in ’72. Yes a long life from 1885 into and nearly through an entire century. He’ll say something that stops you short, rocks you back in wonder, if you’ll just take a minute to get to know him.

(And a very sincere “Thank you” to David Lanoue, HSA President, for waking me from my nap – surely, I must have been asleep at the switch to have missed the poetry of Ezra Pound up until now.)