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| Marie Bortolotto 2019 |
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| Marie Bortolotto 2019 |
May 25, 2019
April 22, 2019
April 21, 2019
April 19, 2019
April 12, 2019
March 16, 2019
March 10, 2019
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| Marie Bortolotto 2019
Oceans
by Juan Ramón Jiménez Translated by Robert Bly
I have a feeling that my boat
has struck, down there in the depths, against a great thing. And nothing happens! Nothing… Silence… Waves…
—Nothing happens? Or has everything happened,
and are we standing now, quietly, in the new life? |
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| Marie Bortolotto 2019 |
January 31, 2019
November 12, 2018
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| Marie Bortolotto 2018 |
Oblivion
A bird in a secluded grove sings like a flute
Willows sway gracefully with their golden threads.
The mountain valley grows the quieter as the clouds return.
A breeze brings along the fragrance of the apricot flowers.
For a whole day I have sat here encompassed by peace,
Till my mind is cleansed in and out of all cares and idle thoughts.
I wish to tell you how I feel, but words fail me.
If you come to this grove, we can compare notes.
Ch'an master Fa-yen (法眼 Hõgen) (The Golden Age of Zen)
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October 21, 2018
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"Dream Mountains" by Marie Bortolotto 2018
by rivers, then by mountains,
I find my way home;
when last here,
I had no thought or care
for rivers or for mountains.
- Michael McClintock, Tanka poetry
"I just have a dream mountain under the eyelids,
this is my breath, my life".
- Voytek Kurtyka (Wojciech Kurtyka),
inspiring Polish Alpinist b. 1947
Every move is a creation,
Maintaining the delicate balance is a creation,
The line is a creation,
Survival is a creation,
Freedom is a creation.
- Voytek Kurtyka (Wojciech Kurtyka),
Polish Alpinist
I see one single suitable role for my life’s work:
for it to be a gift to others.
- Voytek Kurtyka (Wojciech Kurtyka),
Polish Alpinist |
October 19, 2018
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| Marie Bortolotto
When I Met My Muse
I glanced at her and took my glasses
off—they were still singing. They buzzed
like a locust on the coffee table and then
ceased. Her voice belled forth, and the
sunlight bent. I felt the ceiling arch, and
knew that nails up there took a new grip
on whatever they touched. “I am your own
way of looking at things,” she said. “When
you allow me to live with you, every
glance at the world around you will be
a sort of salvation.” And I took her hand.
- William Stafford, American poet (1914 - 1993)
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August 28, 2018
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