Sky by William Stafford
I like it with nothing. Is it
what I was? What I will be?
I look out there by the hour,
so clear, so sure. I could
smile, or frown—still nothing.
Be my father, be my mother,
great sleep of blue; reach
far within me; open doors,
find whatever is hiding; invite it
for many clear days in the sun.
When I turn away I know
you are there. We won’t forget
each other: every look is a promise.
Others can’t tell what you say
when it’s the blue voice, when
you come to the window and look for me.
Your word arches over
the roof all day. I know it
within my bowed head where
the other sky listens.
You will bring me
everything when the time comes.
My photography is featured in the fiction section of Issue 3 of the New Mexico Review.
My photography will be in the Spring 2016 issue of the New Mexico Review. I didn’t even use my phone to take it!
On seeing. (i am always coming back to this one.)
Thou art the dark blue bird, and the green parrot with red eyes. Though hast the lightning as thy child. -Upanishads
“Of Verdant Themes: Toward one sentence in Proust,” is one of my favorite essays by Beachy-Quick. But he’s always been a good one for keeping an eye on the trees.
How is it mid-February already? A nod then, to blogs passed.
Speaking of my love for Brautigan, I just heard recently that a Netflix show called hemlock grove requested permission to use one of my favorites in an episode. It’s weird when TV catches up to anything actually interesting. Not that I even know what I’m talking about. My friend gave me his Netflix password, and it asked me to click which shows I’d liked best, but I’d never seen any. Then I got bored, and read this, which is way more fun.
Here is an updated link for Gamba zine, and my story in the Reverse Programming issue. I have one in their Wild Terrain issue as well. If you find yourself in Greenpoint or Bushwick, check out one of their events through Brooklyn Wildlife. And I highly recommend stopping in Troost Bar when you’re done!
Lower Dens were a nice accompaniment last night to moon fever. That Jana Hunter is the real deal. She closed with her version of ‘Maneater,’ decidedly less cheery than the original.
Wall Street gave a clear view of the super/harvest/red moon eclipse. Saw Coco Rosie the night before in the old theater in back, where friends previously recorded an album. I hadn’t seen it since it was cleaned up for public consumption. Such a gorgeous creepy space.
Two year resonances and tired. A good week for staying in and writing.
Apparently my short story “Split -or- Into a Once and an Irreconcilable, Dying Now” was published here at some point. Though it appears the end of it was cut off, and the beginning restarts about half way through. That could be cute, for an issue titled Reverse Programming, except it repeats without reversing, so I suspect a layout oversight. If you’d like a readable copy, contact me and I’ll send one.
As for the title, what can I say. I wrote it quite awhile ago; I must have gone to see Godspeed! You Black Emperor play in a temple in Brooklyn or something, and caught their fondness for long pretentious titles. I was probably reading Rilke’s Elegies for the seven thousandth time as well.