#jd mcclatchy

[malojasnake]

“a deep winter yawn

                         the wind caught napping”

— Fog Tropes, by J.D. McClatchy

[1982brucespringsteen]

mortel - frédéric garcia // jd mcclatchy - the dialogue of desire and guilt

[1984ld]

Escrito por: JD McClatchy y Thomas Meehan

Dirigido por: Lorin Maazel

Fecha de publicación: 3 de mayo de 2005

[mildrednsims]

“: J.D. McClatchy, Poet of the Body, in Sickness and Health, Dies at 72

A prolific man of letters — he was a critic, translator and librettist as well — he later turned his poet’s eye on his struggle with cancer. from Latest News https://www.nytimes.com/2018/04/11/obituaries/jd-mcclatchy-poet-of-the-body-in-sickness-and-health-dies-at-72.html?partner=rss&emc=rss

[madlyreproducti]

California Environmental Law & Policy Update - September 2017 #5

Environmental and Policy Focus - U.S. and Mexico reach deal to conserve Colorado River water - McClatchy DC - Sep 27 - The United States and Mexico unveiled a nine-year agreement Wednesday to preserve the overtaxed Colorado River. In the...By: Allen Matkins from Zoning, Planning & Land Use RSS Feed | JD Supra Law News http://ift.tt/2g4Xs2r

[malojasnake]

“A woman with planets in her hair, the gravity

Of perfection in her features—oh! her hair

The lengthening shadow of the galaxy’s sweep”

— A Winter Without Snow, by J.D. McClatchy

[virtualmemoriespodcast]

Episode 500 - ALL The Guests

FIVE-HUNDRED EPISODES of The Virtual Memories Show?! Let's celebrate this milestone episode with tributes, remembrances, jokes, congrats, non-sequiturs, and a couple of songs (!) from nearly 100 of my past guests, including Maria Alexander, Jonathan Ames, Glen Baxter, Jonathan Baylis, Zoe Beloff, Walter Bernard, Sven Birkerts, Charles Blackstone, RO Blechman, Phlip Boehm, MK Brown, Dan Cafaro, David Carr, Kyle Cassidy, Howard Chaykin, Joe Ciardiello, Gary Clark, John Crowley, Ellen Datlow, Paul Di Filippo, Joan Marans Dim, Liza Donnelly, Bob Eckstein, Scott Edelman, Barbara Epler, Glynnis Fawkes, Aaron Finkelstein, Mary Fleener, Shary Flenniken, Josh Alan Friedman, Kipp Friedman, Michael Gerber, Mort Gerberg, ES Glenn, Sophia Glock, Paul Gravett, Tom Hart, Dean Haspiel, Jennifer Hayden, Glenn Head, Ron Hogan, Kevin Huizenga, Jonathan Hyman, Andrew Jamieson, Ian Kelley, Jonah Kinigstein, Kathe Koja, Ken Krimstein, Anita Kunz, Peter Kuper, Glenn Kurtz, Kate Lacour, Roger Langridge, Elisabeth Lasch-Quinn, John Leland, David Leopold, Sara Lippmann, David Lloyd, Whitney Matheson, Patrick McDonnell, Dave McKean, Scott Meslow, Barbara Nessim, Jeff Nunokawa, Jim Ottaviani, Celia Paul, Woodrow Phoenix, Darryl Pinckney, Weng Pixin, Eddy Portnoy, Virginia Postrel, Bram Presser, AL Price, Dawn Raffel, Boaz Roth, Hugh Ryan, Dmitry Samarov, Frank Santoro, JJ Sedelmaier, Nadine Sergejeff, Michael Shaw, R Sikoryak, Jen Silverman, Posy Simmonds, Vanessa Sinclair, David Small, Sebastian Smee, Ed Sorel, James Sturm, Mike Tisserand, Tom Tomorrow, Wallis Wilde-Menozzi, Kriota Willberg, Warren Woodfin, Jim Woodring, and Claudia Young. Plus, we look at back with segments from the guests we've lost over the years: Anthea Bell, Harold Bloom, Bruce Jay Friedman, Milton Glaser, Clive James, JD McClatchy, DG Myers, Tom Spurgeon, and Ed Ward. Here's to the next 500 shows! • More info at our site • Support The Virtual Memories Show via Patreon or Paypal

Check out the new episode of The Virtual Memories Show

[demetersdaughter-blog]

The Method

When you’re away I sleep a lot, Seem to pee more often, eat Small meals (no salad), listen To German symphonies and … listen.

Sympathy, more often than not, Is self-pity refined to Fire And German Symphonies. Nun lesen. Read a book. Write “The Method.”

Or is self-pity, refined, two fires Seen as one? Instructions collapse: Write the book. (Read: a method.) The hearth’s easy, embered expense,

Seen as one instruction, collapses In the blue intensity of a match. The heart’s lazy: remembrance spent Forgetting. Love, break a stick.

In the blue intensity of as much It is bound to catch–the far away– Forgetting love. Break a stick. The flames are a reward, of sorts.

They’re bound to reach that far away. The book says so. And who can’t say The flames are his reward? Of course They are dying. Still, they scorch

The book. Say so, and–two can play– Fires kindle (smack!) their own display. They are dying, still. How they scorched When I put this light to time.

Kindled fires smack of their own display. Of smaller denials, no saying. Listen: Where I put this light, it’s time, When you’re away, asleep, or lost.

-J.D. McClatchy

[thesundialreview]

No poem should be an urn to contain a meaning, but a net to catch what meanings float through the day, or float up from between the lines.

J.D. McClatchy in an interview with The Paris Review

[sarah-says-shanti]

Resignation

by J.D. McClatchy

              I like trees because they seem more resigned to               the way they have to live than other things do.                                                                       Willa Cather Here the oak and silver-breasted birches Stand in their sweet familiarity While underground, as in a black mirror, They have concealed their tangled grievances, Identical to the branching calm above But there ensnared, each with the others' hold On what gives life to which is brutal enough. Still, in the air, none tries to keep company Or change its fortune. They seem to lean On the light, unconcerned with what the world Makes of their decencies, and will not show A jealous purchase on their length of days. To never having been loved as they wanted Or deserved, to anyone's sudden infatuation Gouged into their sides, to all they are forced To shelter and to hide, they have resigned themselves

[malojasnake]

“every feature, under a merciful eye,

concentrated on “Did you ever love me?”

—so there you are, without an answer.”

— The Lesson in Prepositions, by J.D. McClatchy

[malojasnake]

“And how in turn will I deal with the pain

Not of separation from but of attachment to”

— from Plundered Hearts, by J.D. McClatchy

[malojasnake]

“I stayed behind, inside,

Under the mixed blessing of not being missed.”

— My Early Hearts, by J.D. McClatchy

[malojasnake]

“You remember how she disappeared in winter,

Obscured by snow that fell blindly on the heart,

On the house, on a world of possibilities”

— A Winter Without Snow, by J.D. McClatchy

[malojasnake]

“Or maybe love is just the ability

To overlook what is bound to hurt.”

— Trees, Walking, by J.D. McClatchy

[malojasnake]

“But then, how else learn

What can’t be taught than play the earnest fool?”

— Plundered Hearts, by J.D. McClatchy