May 15, 2017

At the fatal risk of corniness, here is a simple poem for mother’s day.

All living creatures seek
their own good. Parents seek
the good of their offspring.
Mothers actually give
their own flesh.

Mothers naturally love
their children, however
I think some natural things
do not come easily.


Song of the Ephemeral

August 19, 2016

Over the verdant hillock,

starry with daffodils:

empty cerulean skies

if not for a cloud,

Northerly lining aglow–



The brush caught fire too

beneath the sinking daylight

as it grew red-hot,

Heavens and Earth both consumed.


Indeed, that burning edge still flickers

while all the world around me withers.

Dragging my sore heels, I plodded along like Saigyo, all the time with the memory of his suffering at the River Tenryu…Nevertheless, it was a great pleasure to see the beauties of nature, rare scenes in the mountains or along the coast, or to visit the temporary abodes of ancient sages where they spent secluded lives, or better still, to meet people who had entirely devoted themselves to the search for artistic truth. Since I had nowhere permanent to stay…I walked at full ease, scorning the pleasure of  riding in a palanquin, and filled my hungry stomach with coarse food, shunning the luxury of meat. I bent my steps in whatever direction I wished, having no itinerary to follow…Every turn of the road brought me new thoughts and every sunrise gave me fresh emotions. My joy was great when I encountered anyone with the slightest understanding of artistic excellence…Indeed, one of the greatest pleasures of travelling was to find a genius hidden among weeds and bushes, a treasure lost in broken tiles, a mass of gold buried in clay, and when I did find such a person, I always kept a record with the hope that I might be able to show it to my friends.

Matsuo Basho, Records of a Travel-worn Satchel


March 11, 2014

At a table of burnished wood;
The lifeless flesh of an organism
Beneath my paper
Held for a slower decay.

And at the moment she, to catch an eye
Lifts a smoothed ash arm,
Leaning to catch the light to
Capture an eye
In the bend of her side
I feel justified for my solipsism.

In her being–prior to sensation
And herself without desire–:
A great agency
Has grown somehow self-cognizant.
Its motive is pure.
It knows that it

Must never reach finality.
In every form assumed it diminishes
And halts.
In every form assumed.
But the agency is realized in the form of an  imperative
To carry forth and transfer its momentum.
Rolling through organisms, it spreads.

So the body hangs its weight on a burnished shoulder
As she leans,
A mannequin.

And I have also felt it at work in me.


March 6, 2013

Leaves rattle like bones
Exoskeletons abandoned and empty chairs
Whose presence is felt.

Here it is conceivable:
The winds grow
With white noise
Decadent sounds of
A nuclear-like destruction
Tearing the fabric of the world
Like decaying flesh,
Shingles blown away.


Yields to the unending mathematical framework
Revealed, it was underneath all this time.

Santiago Calatrava stands as one of the world’s greatest contemporary designers, arguably one of history’s greatest (Gardner). Holding worldwide recognition and awards ranging from the Gold Medal of the Institute of Structural Engineers in London to Global Leader for Tomorrow by the World Economic Forum, he is mostly known for his architecture and engineering, though he works as an artist as well (“Biography”). For those who know his works beyond a passing glance, it may be difficult to distinguish which occupation precedes the others. His prolific work reveals him as a reincarnation of the Renaissance man, a polymath. Eschewing the common tendency to specialize, Calatrava has studied several of the humanities and sciences, and his lateral thinking has deepened and nuanced his designs in architecture, engineering, sculpture, ceramics, and furniture, as evinced by his work (Fox).

Valencia’s City of Arts and Sciences, Spain

Moreover, Calatrava’s capacities have resulted in more than standalone single works: from the unification of his broad study emerges a singular aesthetic language with different dialects for each subject. An analysis of this language must include speculation as to what and why certain connections are made. This essay explores the manifestations of Calatrava’s aesthetics, as well as their unity.

Read the rest of this entry »

November 9, 2012

“Strong impulses are but another name for energy. Energy may be turned to bad uses; but more good may always be made of an energetic nature, than of an indolent and impassive one…the same strong susceptibilities which make the personal impulses vivid and powerful, are also the source from whence are generated the most passionate love of virtue, and the strongest sense of self-control…whoever thinks that individuality of desires and impulses should not be encouraged to unfold itself, must maintain that society has no need of strong natures…and that a high general average of energy is not desirable.”

–J.S. Mill, On Liberty, chapter 3