OBITER DICTA

If anyone moving forward asks what I look for in the work of my peers and particularly myself, that of the past and what still is to come, I leave no agreeable recipe; no burdensome, by-the-book formula. Quite the opposite, I follow Wittgenstein’s wily (if not numinous) approach to the dissemination of Philosophical thought, providing those of you there in the future with the following aphorism, which will suffice for my obiter dicta:

“A sound poem should have the impact of a consonant (turned-up, perhaps, at times, even clangorous) punch to the ear.” EH

 
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THE TRICKSTER

Chapters of my life. I watch them pass as leaves break Through the avenues of wind That wash over the Harlem. Who are you that have extinguished the light Of what I have come to seek? Heat collects on the wasted vines of the wild grape,... Continue →