Category Archives: sonics

Taking notes

Posted on August 22, 2009 by heath quinn

Sometimes I get so dramamatic. Know what I mean? I think it’s insufficiently-focused energy, leaking out in words. I’m full of power, brilliance, wit and tenderness (hehehe, I’m so fine), but I hold it back most of the time. The … Continue reading →

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While you sleep

Posted on August 18, 2009 by heath quinn

While you sleep, cicada songs rise and fall, a crow flies in from north-northeast, calling as it goes, redwood’s sweetness kisses the air, a harbor breeze brings drinks of bruised roses and salt, and eddies of leaves and white butterflies … Continue reading →

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Why I love Salman Rushdie

Posted on June 10, 2009 by heath quinn

In the current New Yorker magazine, there’s a Salman Rushdie story titled In The South, which opens like this: “The day that Junior fell down began like any other day: the explosion of heat rippling the air, the trumpeting sunlight, … Continue reading →

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A new poem from Steve Toth: “Willing to Change”

Posted on May 10, 2009 by heath quinn

…Like the rain dropping everything but its desire to reach the ground… — from “Willing to Change” by Steve Toth. share?

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What a remix can do

Posted on April 25, 2009 by heath quinn

Open it up, cut the edges sharper, make it jump, deliver a richer experience. Case in point, “Gora gora rang” by Imran Khan. share?

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Frederick Seidel, poetry, love

Posted on April 14, 2009 by heath quinn

On the weekend, I read an article in the NYTimes about Frederick Seidel, whom I’d never heard of. He reads six of his own poems in a multimedia piece attached to the article. His six readings, which last less than … Continue reading →

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An L Lies down in Laziness

Posted on October 4, 2007 by heath quinn

an L Lies down in Laziness in Line and Line a brokenness bent symboL of a Lambent sound of words Like Love Lost Light and Life Lyric to an EngLish mind an aum entrains an m like this औम and … Continue reading →

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There’s a room I keep for you (reworked)

Posted on August 16, 2007 by heath quinn

There’s a room I keep for you in the woods near a spring, a mountain cabin with blued-edged corners, soft cream-colored walls, a lilac bush growing by the door. The door is never locked, though it has a key. The … Continue reading →

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There’s a room I keep for you

Posted on August 13, 2007 by heath quinn

There’s a room I keep for you, a study in the woods, a simple cabin in the mountains, near a cool spring. It has blued-edged corners, cream-colored walls, very soft, an old lilac bush outside the door. The door is … Continue reading →

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Unpunctuated (reworked)

Posted on August 12, 2007 by heath quinn

dark light frogs sing in the night of me tigers stroll in the crowns of trees my words slid from the strings of me lose softness in your strong square hands the hour is late tigers hunt frogs sing in … Continue reading →

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Unpunctuated

Posted on August 9, 2007 by heath quinn

in dark of night frogs sing tigers take long quiet strides you with strong square hands slide words like pearls off my strings meant only for you unstrung words lose the softness of me tigers hunt in the fields the … Continue reading →

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Perfect (open-ended)

Posted on August 4, 2007 by heath quinn

Two-thousand-meters-high icey-pristine. Soft, warm and welcome as mothers (can be). Powerful, valiant, just like my dad. Pear-sweet crisp-apple-ish classically bad. Noblesse oblige of the high-wired kind. A mind soaked in honesty, gulabi-style. Compassion in person for all that you meet. … Continue reading →

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Mood indigo (original)

Posted on August 1, 2007 by heath quinn

in this quiet indigo place where lake slides over shore or shore’s dark hands reach into lake where rain surprises grass to beat it into reed and water-hyacinth in this indigo quiet cloud glances down and back with coyness as … Continue reading →

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Intentions

Posted on October 31, 2006 by heath quinn

Stepping from a cab onto a rainy street in New York City where I live I’m splashed by cabs that pass at speed forcing force sheets of dirty water up and over enemies on foot, like me. Like that, the … Continue reading →

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Autumn Sometimes Walks To Summer

Posted on October 7, 2006 by heath quinn

Sweetgum trees, with ruddy leaves like stars, their scent fills autumn air from darkened ground to morning sky. Their trunks are long-stretched, rugged necks. Or are they legs, in stockings dark and rough? Do sweetgums walk at night? The dark … Continue reading →

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NYC’s cop horses

Posted on April 19, 2006 by heath quinn

Today’s NY Times carries a story about the horse cops in New York. Not the mounted police, but the horses themselves. These beautiful animals deserve great respect for being able to handle a difficult job. I also have much admiration … Continue reading →

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