Poem of the day: Lao-Tzu on non-being

We join spokes together in a wheel
but it is the center hole
that makes the wagon move
We shape clay into a pot
but it is the emptiness inside
that holds whatever we want
We hammer wood into a house
but it is the inner space
that makes it livable
We work with being
But non-being is what we use.

(Lao Tzu)

... this is one that saves me again and again.

Poem of the day: Song

beauty is a shell
from the sea
where she rules triumphant
till love has had its way with her

scallops and
lion's paws
sculptured to the
tune of retreating waves

undying accents
repeated till
the ear and the eye lie
down together in the same bed


-- William Carlos Williams

Poem of the day: The Hebrew Mamita

Vanessa Hidary is one of my faves amongst the poets who appeared in the six seasons of Russ Simmons' Def Poetry series on HBO.

This performance is especially deep for me, because I have been that girl on that barstool, I have been told many times "gee, you don't look Jewish" and remained silent (or, worse, took it as a damned compliment). On the other hand, I have been known to let people go on and on about "this Jewish bastard" or about "the Kyke landlord" or about "the Jewish conspiracy that owns all the world's stocks and plots to limit my access to the pharmaceuticals I need" (yes, that is an actual meme out there) ... let them go on and on until they have taken all the rope they need to hang themselves, and then stood up and before leaving the table have let them know THEY WERE TALKING TO ONE.

But I have not done the whole trip that Hidary has done (at a much younger age). I never fully processed the shit I've sat and listened to that people felt safe to say in front of me because I "don't look Jewish" (odd, also, because I think I do "look Jewish") ...

Thanks, Vanessa, for crossing the desert for me and bringing this back with you:

Poem of the day: And I Always Thought

I have had this poem pinned to my wall or laying around ever since i bought my first electric typewriter and typed it out on an index card.

And I always thought

And I always thought: the very simplest words
Must be enough
When I say what things are like
Everyone's heart must be torn to shreds.
That you'll go down if you don't stand up for yourself
Surely you see that.

Bertolt Brecht, 1956
Translated by Michael Hamburger