Gary Snyder Wins 2008 Ruth Lilly Poetry Prize : TreeHugger
Few people may have seen as much of this beautiful planet and also looked as deeply within for inspiration as poet Gary Snyder. When he won the 2008 Ruth Lilly Poetry Prize earlier this summer I was deeply moved.
Congratulations!
Diary entry by Jean Cocteau on December 25, 1952:
The more hairs fall out, the more antennae grow in.
Journalist: What would you like to see hanging on your Christmas tree?
J.C.: Journalists
From the book Assassin’s Cloak, an anthology of the world’s greatest diarists, which I finished last night. Great read.
Like a great starving beast.
My body
Is quivering,
Fixed on
The Scent of Light.
– Hafiz
When the guitar
Can forgive the past,
It starts singing.
When the guitar can stop worrying
About the future,
You will become
Such a drunk laughing nuisance
That God
Will lean down
And start combing you into his hair.
When the guitar can forgive
Every wound caused by
Others,
The heart starts singing.
– Hafiz
Well, I will admit that Hafiz wrote violin instead of guitar.
Thanks Y.
(…and then there is Milan in September, a piece we recorded in 1993 for the album “The Hours between Night + Day”, but not included on the CD)
Last night’s performance at the Blue Note was ideal. A quiet and attentive audience that applauded enthusiastically and thereby encouraged further explorations, which I was happy to embark on. I am grateful to all of you.
This ad drew in tourists from Houston, who were in Milan for one day only. A German listener also saw the ad and came to the club. As in the days before, some people had traveled from Rome and other cities in Italy to hear me play – ah, when do I get to perform in Rome!! And on Friday I met three fans who came all the way from Romania for the show. My sincere thanks to all that came to hear me play at the Blue Note.
Y. sent me this part of a poem by Hafiz:
…When Hafiz plays his lute,
My notes ascend into the air and form
Infinite blue crystals
That will move on the wind’s breath for hundreds of years
As my sacred debris, as the divine dust
Rising as a gift from my
Singing bones.-Hafiz
Music rising as a gift from my singing bones! That’s what it feels like. I don’t use a set list for my solo performances and improvise a lot. I make up new melodies, discover new sections, play new medleys and try to simply follow the whims of inspiration. Every performance is quite different and is as much a discovery for me as it, hopefully, is for the audience.
I’ll be back at the Blue Note in Milan and there is also talk of bringing the band to Italy for a tour next year.
The halo of the moon,
Is it not the scent of plum blossoms
Rising up to heaven?
– Buson
Moonlight, reflected by the river, with birds conversing and a train crossing the iron bridge.
Street Light. The yellowish light of street lanterns, reflected by wet cobblestones. Clouds of cigarette smoke, the sound of footsteps nearby and car-horns in the distance.
Unscented beeswax candles nevertheless have a certain scent.
Firelight. Shadows dancing. TV for the stone age. Stare into the flickering shadows and create your own story.
