“Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain.”

“Dover Beach,” by Matthew Arnold

The sea is calm tonight.
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night-air!
Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.

Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the Aegean, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea.

The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth’s shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.

Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.

 

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Photo credit: Elmar Ersch / CC BY-SA (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)

“Ode to a New Black Ball-Point Pen,” by Eric Robert Nolan

Black liquid silk, bleed out
from onyx talon-tip:

Like spilled obsidian liquor
indelibly defacing lace,
like a gleaming needle leaves
glissading sable scars of curling script,
let slip the sliding
black racer snakes to trace the page.

(c) Eric Robert Nolan 2020

 

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Photo credit: By George Shuklin – Own work, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=2209695

“Some lose all mind and become soul, insane …”

Some lose all mind and become soul, insane.
some lose all soul and become mind, intellectual.
some lose both and become accepted.

― Charles Bukowski

 

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By Alberto Garcia – https://www.flickr.com/photos/jerkalertproductions/8566153116/, CC BY-SA 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=28592783

So dudes, I am published in six countries now.

Given the state of our country, I feel certain that means I’ll wind up on some sort of watch list.

Update: I SWEAR to you something just started beeping and I don’t know what it is.

Update 2: Nah, it’s totally cool. It’s this little Altec speaker I got for Christmas. Not sure why it beeps, though.

 

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Nurse Your Favorite Heresies in Whispers

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