Spinozablue’s August edition features a new film by Shabnam Piryaei, art by Mark Zlomislic, fiction by E.K. Smith, and poetry by Valentina Cano and Howie Good.
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The story of Cuchulain has me thinking about panthers. Black panthers. Not because they appear in the myths. As far as I remember, none do. Nor do we see lions, leopards or tigers.
Panthers are relatively small and powerful, sleek, taut and coiled, and they explode from what looks deceptively like a relaxed state. They look at ease, always, until they pounce. And then they just look . . . triumphant.
No apparent anxiety. No fear. If everyone were a panther, there would be no need for Woody Allen films.
To be a panther, free to roam across the highest mountain peaks, the lowest fertile valleys, without wheels turning inside my weary mind, without chains, unbound . . .
I write about the great German poet Rilke and his panther here.