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Journal, Day Five February 2, 2007: Find true American eloquence, i.e., anti-eloquence, our vernacular, on the streets and in the fields. Item: A Mexican migrant laborer picking lettuce in Texas, when asked if he owned any land: “I don’t even own the dirt under my fingernails.” Item: Next to me at a San Francisco bus stop, a broken-down guy wearing headphones: “Hey, [...] by

Journal, Day Four February 1, 2007: Taos, Christmas Eve, 2005. Ferociously beautiful. A half-mile from the Pueblo you see black smoke running up the nighttime sky, bright flecks chipping the firmament, stars so wild and primeval that they seem the gods the Greeks and other tribes believed them to be. Inside the Pueblo walls, pinyõn pine bonfires blaze, sparks fly into children’s [...] by

Journal, Day Three January 31, 2007: Ingmar Bergman, whose movies are like graphs of his psyche, said that he aspired to be like the anonymous craftsmen and guildsmen who built medieval cathedrals. This from an artist who made an art so idiosyncratic that his black and white movies are like scratch marks on glass. If you want anonymity, consult the Maya brick-makers of those grand [...] by

Journal, Day Two January 30, 2007: 1. On revelation and the willed oracle-ism of certain kinds of poetry, as against the recognition of the given, the electric arc of moment-to-moment existence, see William James’ “Pragmatism:” “The whole notion of truth, which naturally and without reflection we assume to mean the simple duplication by the mind of a ready-made [...] by

Journal, Day One January 29, 2007: Faces attached to erotic episodes from the past have a glassy visionary cast marbled by matter and its corruptions. Where and how are they now? How many gone? How many puffed or gaunt? Eyes pouched, hair gray, teeth going-to-yellow like mine? I’ve just gotten an e-mail from someone I was in love with 20 years ago. I remember walking her to a [...] by