Oh, Murakami, you sly fox, you mercurial and fluid, thread a web between East and west that we at once desperately need and can’t quite comprehend. And yet we return, thirsty and increasingly drunk of the elixir that is the product of your craft.
“A line will take us hours maybe, Yet if it does not seem a moment’s thought, Our stitching and unstitching have been naught. Better go down upon your marrow bones And scrub a kitchen pavement, or break stones Like an old pauper, in all kinds of weather— For to articulate sweet sounds together Is to […]
“The Dying of Baal,” A Poem by Helen Wing
“…Oh Syria! With the god of Storm
and Dew now thunder-mute
in Homs, Aleppo, Damascus and Palmyra… “
“So from populist demagogues, we will learn the indispensability of democracy. And from isolationists, we will learn the need for global solidarity. And from tribalists, we will learn the beauty of cosmopolitanism and the beauty of diversity.”
I will be confident — not sad sap, sipping quietly in corner bar.
I will be, act, speak with intention.
I will be finished, will shop my novel.