In summer, I sit here to read. I should sketch here, but didn't try that yet. I have figured out that laptop use outdoors isn't really that much fun, but might try ot again anyway. I am fussing tonight about the watercolor class I signed up for this month. It starts on Tuesday. It's always difficult parking near the Boise Musejum and the ticket I got last year cost $75. Who doesn't want to stay in a Museum for more than two hours??? Who doesn't want to make art?
Here is Bei Dao in the introduction to his The Rose of Time; selected poems. page XII.
[After talking about his magazine that was banned in China in 1980 after two years in 1980.]
"In truth, I am not quite confident of my writing when I look back. It reminds me of those days of blacksmithing when I was frustrated by the iron works I had made. I realize that a poet and a blacksmith are much alike; both of them chase after a perfect dream that is unrealizable. I once, in an early poem, wrote the lines: "freedom is nothing but the distance/between the hunter and the hunted." It is the predicament, as well, of writing poetry: when you are hunting poetry,
it turns out that you are hunted by poetry. In this sense, you are both hunter and hunted,
but poetry is the distance like freedom."
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