Neruda

I've recently discovered the poetry of Pablo Neruda. I can't say anything about his politics -- I can only hope it doesn't involve killing babies or kittens -- but I'm blown away by how he melds nature and human emotion. I was feeling down this Saturday afternoon, and a chance encounter in a downtown Vancouver bookstore left me feeling, if not better, at least empathized:

Inclinado en las tardes tiro mis tristes redes
a tus ojos oceanicos.

Have I shown you the late afternoon view out my office window? It faces west -- toward the ocean, though you can't see water -- and on those afternoons when the day's been cloudy and the sun comes out only long enough to say goodbye, when my spirit sags like basset hound ears, I think about casting my thoughts out on the water. I think of those I love, their distance from me, and hope they'll feel my mental mesh pass them by in the deep waters of the Pacific. Pulling up my nets I'm quarry-less.

I always thought the Retiarius -- the net-thrower -- had the worst chance of all the Roman gladiators....