Category: Yo Ivanhoe

I had this period in my early thirties when I would have what I guess for lack of a better word I’d have to call visions. I once saw a woman –a stout, elderly woman in a disturbingly translucent gown– levitating in the lovely chapel of a huge hospital in the Midwest. This chapel was…

Out there in the country where I grew up there was once a pond that was said to be full of wonders. People always referred to the pond as “brackish.” I don’t have a dictionary at hand –I am a refugee now, and am reclining in the backseat of my car at a fogbound rest…

I remember a darkness, real, yet stirred with a thousand fireflies, perhaps my earliest recollected encounter with true wonder. The mosquito trucks crawled through at dusk and left behind a moving cloud embroidered with the bright fragments of skreeing children. Even then two people armed with nothing but sticks could have a good time, could…

I wonder where you were going in such a hurry when I passed you walking on the opposite side of the street yesterday? You always did have that purposeful look about you. Even as a little girl you seemed like you were in a hurry to get somewhere. I knew how important it was for…

So ain’t we all inanimate, George? –Jim Thompson, Pop. 1280 ‘Je’ est un autre. (‘I’ is someone else.) –Arthur Rimbaud You might, you’re perhaps fond of saying, occasionally like something concrete from me, something in the way of true disclosure, painful confession, political opinion, or merely, now and again, a bit of honest biographical kibble.…

The most that anyone of us can seem to do is to fashion something –an object, or ourselves– and drop it into the confusion, make an offering of it, so to speak, to the life force. –Ernest Becker, The Denial of Death It may be that when we no longer know what to do we…