…Into the dialectic

by Ben Lerner For the distances collapsed. For the figure failed to humanize the scale. For the work, the work did nothing but invite us to relate it to the wall. For I was a shopper in a dark aisle.

(from A Book for the Hours of Prayer) I live my life in growing orbits which move out over the things of the world. Perhaps I can never achieve the last, but that will be my attempt. I am circling around God, around the ancient tower, and I have been circling for a thousand years, Read More

The road from intensity to greatness passes thro sacrifice — Kassner For a long time he attained it in looking. Stars would fall to their knees beneath his compelling vision. Or as he looked on, kneeling, his urgency’s fragrance tired out a god until it smiled at him in its sleep. Towers he would gaze Read More

When your eyes are tired the world is tired also. When your vision has gone no part of the world can find you. Time to go into the dark where the night has eyes to recognize its own. There you can be sure you are not beyond love. The dark will be your womb tonight. Read More

[audio:https://intothedialectic.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/10/wild_geese.mp3] Mary Oliver, Selected Poems

You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves. Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. Meanwhile the world goes on. Read More

pulling them like a river those who don’t drink dawn like a cup of spring water

Last night the moon came dropping its clothes in the street. I took it as a sign to start singing, falling up into the bowl of sky. The bowl breaks. Everywhere is falling everywhere. Nothing else to do. Here’s the new rule: break the wineglass, and fall towards the glassblower’s breath. this is half moon Read More

In the center of the earth I will push aside the emeralds so that I can see you— you like an amanuensis, with a pen of water, copying the green sprigs of plants. What a world! What deep parsley! What a ship sailing through the sweetness! And you, maybe—and me, maybe—a topaz. There’ll be no Read More

The soul, like the moon, is new. and always new again. And I have seen the ocean continuously creating. Since I scoured my mind and my body, I too, LaIla, am new, each moment new. My teacher told me one thing, Live in the soul. When that was so, I began to go naked, and Read More

I live my life in growing orbits which move out over the things of the world. Perhaps I can never achieve the last, but that will be my attempt. I am circling around God, around the ancient tower, and I have been circling for a thousand years, and I still don’t know if I am Read More

I was dead, then alive. Weeping, then laughing. The power of love came into me, and I became fierce like a lion, then tender like the evening star. He said, “You’re not mad enough. You don’t belong in this house.” I went wild and had to be tied up. He said, “Still not wild enough Read More

Now we will count to twelve and we will all keep still. This one time upon the earth, let’s not speak any language, let’s stop for one second, and not move our arms so much. It would be a delicious moment, without hurry, without locomotives, all of us would be together in a sudden uneasiness.

The leaves are falling, falling as if from far up, as if orchards were dying high in space. Each leaf falls as if it were motioning “no.” And tonight the heavy earth is falling away from all the other stars in the loneliness. We’re all falling. This hand is falling. And look at the other Read More

Holding its sky tightly in its arms, the cloud, wrapped in its cold, damp sheepskin. The garden of leaflessness, is alone, day and night, with its pure, forlorn silence. Its instrument the rain, its anthem the wind. Its clothe is the cloak of nakedness. And should it need a garment other than this, the wind Read More

And love is a yearning of the One for the One, And beauty is a sweet difference of the Same And oneness is the soul of multitude. http://www.savitribysriaurobindo.com/completeText.htm

Except for the point, the still point, There would be no dance, and there is only the dance.” T.S. Eliot

Being set on the idea Of getting to Atlantis, You have discovered of course Only the Ship of fools is Making the voyage this year

“But how shall we bury you?” “Any way you like,” said Socrates, “that is if you can catch me and I don’t slip through your fingers.” –PHAEDO, The Last Days of Socrates

Without love, all worship is a burden, all dancing is a chore, all music is mere noise. All the rain of heaven may fall into the sea — without love, not one drop could become a pearl.