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Just in time for Valentine's Day,
the Guardian in London has
reviewed and raved about
The Secret Language of Sleep.
And, for the rest of the week,
you can buy it for $5!
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Back to the Ground: Tanglewood Music Festival, Lenox, Massachusetts.BY STUART GREENHOUSE
to twist so fast! ... yet it was blue almost to my nose, where my breath leapt from the invisible to that visible they swept under; a fur of white stalking east; and soon, a glow where the majesticalest hand merely faltered. Proof follows, or sound means nothing. It's our eyes our mind follows unrelenting, unimpeachable. Sound of: he swept the asphalt of bones; he swept the porch of blue; he with his left toe unstuck forgotten swallows which we then felt free to finish; he, shambling, leapt out of earshot, a comet; in that air our coal throats glowed. This appetite for memory may be, like love's first glow, general, granted; and in that nebulous swallow of what-comes-next we find our votive sky swept of human sound but not of human motion: it follows that within each eye is an articulate blue from which, as is happening now, a red thought leapt to set complexity: synthesis of that white-lipped horizon and the one I now, yes, see. And what do I, here, hear? Fellows jostling nearer to the speaker, wine-splits swallowed, out of a practiced-on cello an intricate glow like a late day at the beach with closed eyes swept by—what?—tears? Sea-spray? A mute blue descending on the backs of gulls, as this blue descends (as repetition builds to a glow, gaussian, resolving more than is) to follow the nearness of my eyes' one curve, to leap, an entirety, from the butane backs of two swallows as they in-curve and outdo us, soundless and swept of the shagbark squalor of thought? What adze swept clean our scholar's thought of intent, of sound leapt in risen (motion!) motion to perfection, to a glow in the ear, to the intricatest possession of blue, wholly wrung, from which this divine blue must have followed? What sound's sound first blue-backed these bare barn swallows? Whatever that ever was, my mind swallowed its blue as that blue thought leapt, convinced, into the sound I sight: upswept by its own glow, the mind, such as it is, can only follow.
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