To explain the central claim of Alaskan Tales is realism—to depict life “as it is” rather than follow the accepted format that reality must be loyally committed to experience and motive must be equally committed to probability, resulting in the attempt to bring writer and reader to have meeting of the minds that book happenings are grounded in common fidelity experience and probability.
Thus, assuming correspondence writing and reality. On the other hand, my writing argues that realism’s primary aesthetic is its response a pervasive sense of epistemological uncertainty. In my writing, I attempt to interpret realism as an oscillation between the reliability of social knowledge and a shared (with the reader), knowledge of the world.
A SUPPLICATION
Deep is this sadness that surrounds me,
As I enter again,
Lord into thy house.
Long was my journey,
Empty are my coffers,
Full only of agony,
Garnered along the way.
And from the depths of this bankrupt heart,
Arises the plea to . . .
Close the wounds . . .
Relieve me of love . . .
“And
Grant me,
Thy peace!”
The Breath of God
He flung his nets, the breath of God
And with his nets, his nets he fished
And with his nets he fished – for the
Deep sea Fish. And many he caught
With his nets, did the breath of God.
Across the sky moved the breath of God
And in his sea, he caught a fish
He brought forth birds of all kinds, gave
Them a voice, did the breath of God.
Gave them voice did the breath of God
Charmed with voice the lands of earth
Tears flowed from the eyes of the wise
And tears were stars of the sky.
Now storm clouds hid all of those stars
Now dark and cold – death – has come near
Death – to the purer voice of the bird
Death – has overcome the breath of God!
Yet nights do pass and morns do dawn
Now loud is the speech of the bird
Listen to the song sung clear, he
Gave then voice, did the breath of
God
From Erewhon
As a greeting
to those who
would follow
Then all there was to do
was keep on
following the colors of reindeer
The wandering
herd:
like ocean waves
Brown-gray back coat
downy white
bluish white close
to the skin
We sang the word
and the reindeer
That separated
Our family
the sun hung silent
Above the steep cliffs.
RED FEEBLE MOON
You, twilit deathly feeble moon,
Floating upon the sky’s dark pool.
Your fevered swollen rust-red light
Pierces me like soft, reedy sighs,
Like an oboe dirge from your dark side.
You, twilit deathly feeble moon,
Your unquenchable longings seethe
To burst-forth to kill, to strangle
You, twilit deathly feeble moon
Floating upon the sky’s dark pool.
A lover on his way in haste
To meet his own, his dream, is quite
Distracted by your beam, your rust-red,
Ghastly, pain-begotten blood you
Twilit, soft, deathly-feeble rust-red moon!
EPITAPH
Words, on a small broken box
Words, sepia ink inscribed
Words, on bone white cedar.
Words, amber in tumbled foam
Words on a gelid shore
Words, writ of a son returned.
Words, the disjecta of a fool
Words, of a clown who believed
Words, more important than the prize.
A CREED
Trust reality!
But I keep trusting a dream,
But I attach my longing
To something insatiable.
Am I the fool who,
Has mistaken the dream for
Something transcendent within?
Yet I keep longing
The dream fades,
To the greys of the mundane.
The varied Thrush (Ixoreus naevius) is nicknamed the “winter” or “Alaskan” robin, and its size and shape closely resembling the American robin. Its song, a beautiful long buzzy one-note tone, is one of the first signs of spring in Southeast Alaska.
Last Tuesday evening, I attended a commemoration gathering at the First Unitarian Church of San Francisco
Dr. Graham Darling
I have such a spider as a pet. Her name is Hortensia. She is a spider belonging to that family of vagabond, daytime hunting spiders known as the Phidippus audax. She is a lively little jumping spider marked with the black and white stripes of the species commonly called the “Daring jumping spider.”. Her jumping takeoff thrust comes from the last two pairs of legs while the first two reach out ahead for the landing. Her jumps are mostly over short distances but can be up to twenty times the spider’s length. Her costume is not as rich as that of the Banded Eperira, but is much more elegant because of “its soberness, its daintiness, and the artful blending of its hues. Fingers which shrink from touching any other spider, are enticed by the beauteous Hortensia, so gentle is her appearance.
While a wolf raised his ancient howl, a
He was not tired or cold. He was
Though the loon hardly had enough gray
He probably didn’t know how big
Now, that’s my concept of religion.
Loons run life up spires of the Gothic,
As a destitute, abandoned Parisian boy, he became the first celebrity chef. In 1783 or 1784, at 8 years old, he worked as a kitchen boy for a chophouse in Paris in exchange for room and board. By age 15, he had become an apprentice to Sylvain Bailly, a well-known patisserie with a prosperous bakery nestled in one of Paris’ most fashionable neighborhoods.
No discussion of French chefs in Russia would be complete without reference to Antonin Carême, the greatest of all French chefs in the nineteenth century. However, more is made of his relationship with the Russian court than the facts support. Contrary to many accounts, he never worked in Tsar Alexander’s kitchens in St. Petersburg. His influence on the development of the Russian cuisine was primarily indirect, either through his writings or through his followers.
Most of these innovations required new techniques for preparing, cooking, and combining ingredients. Extensive chopping and puréeing became fashionable, and only the wealthy could support such a labor-intensive cuisine. After all, in the days before electric appliances, a great deal of skill and perseverance were required to make the fish quenelles, the reduced stocks, and the other smooth, puréed foods which were (and still are) the hallmark of French haute cuisine.
hot blini.
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