Late Night (after Li Po)
Originally posted on O at the Edges:
The moon smiles upon my bed. I consider frost and ice, and raising my head, the bright sky. Lying back, I think of…
Stone Path (after Tu Mu)
Originally posted on O at the Edges:
Stone Path (after Tu Mu) High up the cold mountain a stone path rises to the village in the white clouds. I stop…
Jose Padua: The Age of Resistance
When all the things I used to whisperdecline into words left unheard like liquid spilling from a cup away from the tongue and onto the table is when I will … Continue reading
Robert Okaji: Huazi Ridge (After Wang Wei)
Originally posted on O at the Edges:
Huazi Ridge Limitless birds merging with the autumn-colored hills all along Huazi Ridge this sadness, too, without end Another adaptation. I hope that…
Anna Husain: The Other
I am the vendor on harlot streets I am the night on your tongue I am idiot vowels, striking out I am not what you imagine. I am soft and … Continue reading
Jose Padua: The Cold War of my American Dream
It was in the sixth grade when Sister Geraldine took us bad listeners and day dreamers out into the hall one afternoon to repeat after her, one by one, “The … Continue reading
Jose Padua: I have Driven from the Forest and the Mountains
I have driven from the forest and the mountains through snow, wind, and rain and various times of day, in heat and in cold, during love and during hatred, with … Continue reading
Jose Padua: Fear and Whiskey
To the young actor between roles who was my supervisor at my temporary data entry job at Goldman Sachs, and who tried to make me get his coffee when … Continue reading
Jose Padua: The Angel Of 11th Street
At the end of another drunken week of beer and whiskey and wine I walked home and on the street I met a woman who bummed a cigarette from … Continue reading
Video: Elizabeth Gilbert talks about finding your creative genius
With wit and humor, the author of “Eat, Pray, Love” talks about artistic creativity, imagination, and fear of success.
Jose Padua: The Sight of my Neighbor Limping
The sight of my neighbor limping to his front door in the dim, late-evening light, walking from his truck, down the driveway to the sidewalk, then toward the front … Continue reading
Jose Padua: Words and Letters
Originally posted on Shenandoah Breakdown:
When I was in first grade I hated the box of little cardboard squares with the letters printed on them, because whenever they took it…
Jose Padua: So Often It’s the Beaten
So often it’s the beaten old, paint peeling downtown house with the broken bicycle on the front porch and uncut grass covering the tiny front yard that has a … Continue reading
Jose Padua: Peacocks
When it’s done right, the third movement of Bach’s Brandenburg Concerto No 3 rocks harder than nearly anything else in music, except perhaps Raw Power by the Stooges. You … Continue reading
