In many things we all offend. If any man offend not in word, the same is a perfect man.
Not being perfect, offending and indeed by myself offended, I shut the door on Blogger last year. I had written quite freely, and as surfeit is the father of much fast, so every scope by the immoderate use turns to restraint.
Meanwhile in the external forum (offline), fair and foul went about double-crossing under various pseudonyms. Astonished, I abdicated, renounced my imperium, became a mere nominal ruler of my soul’s country, which was whelmed, field and fen, to the chaos of the sea. Now, however, I lie in a patch of peace as a dog in a patch of sun.
Anyhow I am back. After a period of reconvalescence, during which my desire to write English slowly recovered (despite the contrary evidence of the above mishmash, which admittedly sounds more like a lament at Finnegan’s wake), old pastimes now sidle back into my schedule. Perhaps briefly. Perhaps for keeps. Hopefully more chastely than previously.
I dedicate this blog to a threshold love, to the white horse, and to Love at the end of the world.
Words about words
How little I respected words! I flung
Whole treatises to friend and foe, debated,
Piled up my points and statements, never sated –
Unknown the Silence that has ever rung
Bell-like within the small subcardiac cave
Deep-buried. Still I grow, and I dispense
Prodigal words, forthcasting sound and sense.
Save me, fleshed Word, O Lord of meaning, save
From symbol fighting symbol, from the dim
Battle of ghosts, from flighty wingless words,
From bulls that whet their horns in warlike herds,
From harsh dogmatics and semantics grim,
From all the clever folly of my kind,
For the great stillness’ sake within my mind.