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kimdorman.bsky.social
@kimdorman.bsky.social
American poet residing in India / Corbel Stone Press
The bulbuls nest
by the road,
sweep down to my door
at breakfast.
November 11, 2025 at 12:53 PM
Reposted
It's that time of year for murmurations at the end of the pier near to where I live. Sometimes these flocks of starlings appear as shifting and fluttering point-clouds. At other moments they coalesce into dense dimensionalities and fully formed mathematical surfaces. ↓
BLACK SUN: Amorphous Flocks of #Starlings Swell Above the Danish Marshlands - amazing #murmuration #photography by Søren Solkær

Link for more photos: www.thisiscolossal.com/2020/11/sore...
November 11, 2025 at 12:22 PM
The coucal,
its blood-red eyes —
snake-eater.

-after Bashō
November 11, 2025 at 8:38 AM
Jungle babblers
huddled together
in the rain.

When it’s over,
they preen each other
in the sun.

(A slight thing. Then I remember
Merrill: ‘Poetry as contemplation
descended from song.’)
November 11, 2025 at 6:27 AM
MP Pratheesh
November 11, 2025 at 6:00 AM
MP Pratheesh
November 11, 2025 at 5:59 AM
there is this thin fabric, always, visible and invisible. the skin that envelopes both poetry and earth.

-MP Pratheesh
November 11, 2025 at 2:20 AM
November 11, 2025 at 12:01 AM
Reposted
1st lines

High rise the pole banners
In the outskirts of Jun,
With white brands braided.
Of, fine horses, four abreast!
Such great gentlemen,
What can we offer them?

From the Book of Songs 詩經 Arthur Waley translation about 600 BCE

#1stlines #poetry #China #translation
November 10, 2025 at 2:01 PM
The Lioness returns;
burnished wood,
gravity and grace.
November 10, 2025 at 1:43 PM
Shinkichi Takahashi
(tr. Lucien Stryk & Takashi Ikemoto)
November 10, 2025 at 1:41 PM
Reposted
“I asked him which authors his brother most admired. ‘Moby-Dick was Cormac’s favorite book without question, and Faulkner was more of an influence than he liked to admit,’ he said.”

www.smithsonianmag.com/arts-culture...

#MelvilleMonday
November 10, 2025 at 12:10 PM
Reposted
Grateful to Mary for adding this black square to my working collection. On that note, this essay by Andrew Spira is wonderful.

publicdomainreview.org/essay/black-...
November 9, 2025 at 6:55 PM
(notes)

Numbers combine,
multiply, divide.

Harmony of disparate
energies; bow
and lyre.

.

a silent dog accompanied me home

.

Fleet feelings,
eternal; winged
soul
November 10, 2025 at 1:27 PM
Reposted
October goes, leaving the heaviness of the world in its place. You think you’ve known grief—until you have to pick up a shovel and mend your loved one’s sunken grave.
October 31, 2025 at 8:47 PM
Reposted
Feeling no need for preparation — and now safe aboard Wrack after half a night in hospital — I'm sprawled along a narrow bunk, absorbed in The Sea (and relieved by its subject's close proximity).
Roberto Calasso: “the sea is the continuum... its emissary on earth is the snake.”

[Preparing myself for a rereading of David Farrell Krell’s The Sea: A Philosophical Encounter]
November 10, 2025 at 1:09 PM
Graciela Iturbide / Antes de la matanza
(Before the slaughter), La Mixteca, Oaxaca, 1992
November 10, 2025 at 1:17 PM
November 10, 2025 at 10:25 AM
Graciela Iturbide / Sin título, Japón, 2014
November 10, 2025 at 10:12 AM
Shinkichi Takahashi
(tr. Lucien Stryk & Takashi Ikemoto)
November 10, 2025 at 9:56 AM
Lucien Stryk on Bashō
November 10, 2025 at 9:17 AM
Reposted
1776: Redwings. These birds begin to appear at last.
November 10, 2025 at 7:00 AM
2 by Shinkichi Takahashi
(tr. Lucien Stryk)
November 10, 2025 at 6:26 AM
quick small birds crossing the field and
tree to tree
November 10, 2025 at 6:23 AM
In one hand a poignard,
brilliant as a drop of water,
and in the other a buckler
of ox-hide,
which might be taken for
a piece of mist.

~

He carries his sword
in his hand naked,
as they always keep it.

No one reaches the throne
by means of the strong hand.

-on the Malabar Nairs
November 10, 2025 at 6:13 AM