December 9, 2011

Charles Simic | The White Room

Salagdoong Beach Resort, Siquijor, Philippines One of the dearest reminders of home is the trees: their silence, their limbs hanging defiantly—unaffected by gravity—only to be betrayed by their leaves. I’m always drawn to their shy visibility—they make good backgrounds for photographs. They rarely take the role of the subject; but when they do,  the heart aches with their silence. So wherever I travel, I don’t leave the place without the memories of its trees.
December 2, 2010
Backpacking with a Book

Charles Simic: Evening Talk

Everything you didn’t understand Made you what you are. Strangers Whose eye you caught on the street Studying you. Perhaps they were the all-seeing Illuminati? They knew what you didn’t, And left you troubled like a strange dream. Not even the light stayed the same. Where did all that hard glare come from? And the scent, as if mythical beings Were being groomed and fed stalks of hay On these roofs drifting among the evening clouds. You didn’t understand a thing! You loved the crowds at the end of the day That brought you many mysteries. There was always someone […]