Monthly Archives: February 2013

A New Chapter in Portland Radio

XRAY FM- on Twitter, Facebook, etc.

Streamed, and broadcasting, newly licensed LPFM community radio. A bastard cousin of Radio23, brainchild of Jeff Simmons.



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Terrific cat, I really like the poem. Lovely. Thank you.

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Good poem on Riding Effortlessly, William Gibson qoutes

This is worth looking at, I love this guy’s poetry.

Also, I like William Gibson. He’s written lot’s of books, kind of the father of cyber-punk science fiction. Here are some of my favorite sayings by Gibson:

“Before you diagnose yourself with depression or low self-esteem, first make sure that you are not, in fact, just surrounded by assholes.”

“The future is already here – it’s just not evenly distributed.”

“The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel.”

“The deadliest bullshit is odorless, and transparent.”

“I think I’d probably tell you that it’s easier to desire and pursue the attention of tens of millions of total strangers than it is to accept the love and loyalty of the people closest to us.”

“When you want to know how things really work, study them when they’re coming apart.”

“One of the liberating effects of science fiction when I was a teenager was precisely its ability to tune me into all sorts of strange data and make me realize that I wasn’t as totally isolated in perceiving the world as being monstrous and crazy”

“Stand high long enough and your lightning will come.”

“He took a duck in the face at 250 knots.”

“We see in order to move; we move in order to see.”

“There must be some Tommy Hilfiger event horizon, beyond which it is impossible to be more derivative, more removed from the source, more devoid of soul.”

“And don’t forget to water the fuckin’ goldfish.”

“I’m away for a while. But there’s no cash on the premises, no drugs, and the pitbull’s tested positive. Twice.”

“If you knew enough Greek, she thought, you could assemble a word that meant divination via the pattern of grease left on a paper plate by broasted potatoes. But it would be a long word.”

“Somewhere, deep within her, surfaces a tiny clockwork submarine. There are times when you can only take the next step. And then another.”

“Whenever the media do try to pick it up, it slides like a lone noodle from their chopsticks.”

That’s all for now, folks

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I am a poetry hog

It’s true.

I have spent much of my life immersed in poetry.

I have had a long and wonderful affair with Chinese poetry of the T’ang dynasty. I studied Chinese in college primarily to learn to read my favorite poems in their original form. I parlayed that and my study of Japanese poetry into a B.A. in Arts and Letters. I also have particular favorites among American and English poets. And, if you are a regular, you know that I am absolutely nuts for Sufi poets like Rumi, Kabir and most especially, the Indian poet Rabindranath Tagore.

I’m just sayin. If you want to see something really cool I recommend-

may all be sweet

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JC: That which has no clue

Rumi, from Ghazels, translated by Kabir Helminsky

found in The Pocket Rumi, Edited by Kabir Helminsky, published by Shambala Pocket Classics

That which has no clue

At the last you vanished, gone to the Unseen.

Strange the path you took out of this world.

Strange how your beating wings demolished the cage,

and you flew away to the world of the soul.

You were some old woman’s favorite falcon

but when you heard the Falcon Drum

you escaped to the placeless.

You were a drunken nightingale among owls,

but when the scent of the rose garden reached you,

you were gone.

The bitter wine you drank with us left it’s headache,

but at last you entered a timeless tavern.

Like an arrow you went straight for the target of bliss,

straight to the mark like an arrow from a bow.

Like a ghoul, the world tried to deceive you,

with it’s false clues-

but you ignored the clues, 

and went straight to that which has no clue.

Now that you are the sun, what good is a crown?

and how do you tie your belt

now that you have no middle?

Heart, what a rare bird you are, that in your yearning for heaven’s attention.

you flew to the spear-point like a shield!

The rose flees autumn, but what a foolhardy rose you are,

seeking the autumn wind.

You were rain from another world

that fell upon this dusty earth.

You ran in all directions and escaped down the gutter.

Be silent. Be free

of the pain of speech.

Don’t sleep since you took refuge

with so loving a friend.

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