Rob Angeli
Bio
sunt lacrimae rerum et mentem mortalia tangunt
There are tears of things, and mortal objects touch the mind.
-Virgil Aeneid I.462
Stories (164)
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Generic[?] Haiku II
fall transmuting burnt- out green of summer soon into red gold -R. Angeli *** Make the universe your companion, always bearing in mind the true nature of things--mountains and rivers, trees and grasses, and humanity--and enjoy the falling blossoms and scattering leaves. One should know that a hokku is made by combining things. The secret of poetry lies in treading the middle path between the reality and the vacuity of the the world. One must first of all concentrate one's thoughts on an object. Once one's mind achieves a state of concentration and the space between oneself and the object has disappeared, the essential nature of the object can be perceived. When you are composing a verse, let there not be a hair's breadth separating your mind from what you write. Quickly say what is on your mind; never hesitate a moment. Composition must occur in an instant, like a woodcutter felling a huge tree, or a swordsman leaping at his enemy. It is also like cutting a ripe watermelon with a sharp knife or like taking a large bite into a pear. Is there any good in saying everything? -Matsuo Basho (1644-1694) From his treatise on poetry, LEARN FROM THE PINE
By Rob Angeli2 years ago in Poets
Will You Be My Guinea Pig?. Top Story - September 2023.
Now it's time to talk about guinea-pigs, because why not? Who among you would be foolhardy enough to claim guinea pigs an unworthy subject for literature? There's more to all this than meets the eye, so get ready for a tale of worlds colliding, oceans crossed by these fuzzy squeakers, which are according to some, always a satisfaction for the stomach. Prepare yourselves to hear marvels!
By Rob Angeli2 years ago in Education
BANG BANG//: Chapter 1) Roll-Call. Top Story - September 2023. Content Warning.
Watercolor by Halston Williams. PROLOGUE: Brain Painted Is this the setting of the next great American Novel, these corridors peppered with bullet-holes, blackened with shock of powder? Should these hallways, decked with finger-paintings and crayon creations, conceal the gore of these classrooms? a splat from how many children's heads and hearts?
By Rob Angeli2 years ago in Chapters
A Generic Haiku
Touch of willow leaf On the surface of the pond; Something stirs beneath. "Learn about pines from the pine, and about bamboo from the bamboo. Don't follow in the footsteps of the old poets, seek what they sought. The basis of art is change in the universe. What's still has a changeless form. Moving things change, and because we cannot put a stop to time, it continues unarrested. To stop a thing would be to halve a sight or sound in our heart. Cherry blossoms whirl, leaves fall, and the wind flits them both along the ground. We cannot arrest with our eyes or ears what lies in such things. Were we to gain mastery over them, we would find that the life of each thing had vanished without a trace." Matsuo Basho (1644-1694) From his treatise on poetry, LEARN FROM THE PINE
By Rob Angeli2 years ago in Poets
Chardonnay. Top Story - August 2023. Content Warning.
Grapple with a lil grape amidst the thistle. Peas in a pod not far from the backyard pepper-patches, prickly pompoms along the side-paths of a city park. This vivid color is a good omen if untouched, fertility is their needled warning.
By Rob Angeli2 years ago in Proof
The All-England Summarize Proust Competition
In Search of Lost Time, written between 1910-1920 Childhood darkens somberly mature while 1880 transitions to 1920. Time is only recoverable through the incidental sensation of the moment, reviving past memories. Dissimulation of complex personal secrets. Densest of books, sensitive universally: a psychedelic soap-opera. Nothing is what it seems: not-so-secretly advocates homosexuality. A true Swann Song: politely told.
By Rob Angeli2 years ago in Critique
Now, I AM an Axolotl. Top Story - August 2023.
There was a time when I would think about axolotls a lot. I used to go look at them in the aquarium of the Jardin des Plantes and would stay there hours contemplating them, observing their immobility, their shadowed movements. Now, I am an axolotl. Hubo un tiempo en que yo pensaba mucho en los axolotl. Iba a verlos al acuario del JardÃn des Plantes y me quedaba horas mirándolos, observando su inmovilidad, sus oscuros movimientos. Ahora soy un axolotl. JULIO CORTAZAR (1914-1987)
By Rob Angeli2 years ago in BookClub
The Frog Journal
So, it's come to this. You're really going to make me do this, Vocal challengers? I wasn't going to enter this one, thinking I had burned all bridges to that mythical First self-driven scribble. But wait. I knew very well I had that green journal I wrote passionately in for about a week in February when I was nine, buried somewhere. Happened to be in a duffel-bag under my bed, so now I guess we're going to need to muster our patience and let a writer under thirteen Vocalize here. If only in spirit. I will provide a running commentary, not changing names and places, and it can serve as a Getting-to-Know Me piece, for those curious.
By Rob Angeli2 years ago in Writers
