Images of Spring

Through the tall, young trees
the trim green-grassed hill
slopes sharply up from rich blue water:
Later, across the parking lot
a similar rise: long-drawn trunks
whose bushy heads betray the
gentle slopes of hills below.
On some suburban side street after work,
waiting to pick up Charlie from the sitter
a lawn-mowing man aerosolized
green onions in the grass:
The scent is heavy with promise
and pleasant with memory.




April 2015

Desire

I want

ever so much more

than I want to want.

Afternoon Bones

Indecision

Self-interest

The perfect noble protagonist, some will observe, rarely considers his or her own self-interest. No accident, this: we naturally find another's absorbtion with Self to be abhorrent, for such activity infringes upon our own.

The image of nobility, then, does not allow the noble to debase themselves with self-concerning thoughts. The image of nobility, observed, does not force us, its observers, to cease our own self-focus. "Nobility" allows us to remain within, self-contained: it does not force us to ourselves be noble.

And yet there is an attractive confidence to the opposite side of this. The perfectly ignoble--a self-absorbed buffoon, thinking only of himself--is no hero, but he is often a protagonist. And he often gets the girl. The reasons we love this scoundrel, though, are the same for which we also love his noble brother: one distracts us from our self-loathing, while the other does not keep us from self-love.

We are a fickle species, we audience.

March 2015