Tuesday, May 31, 2011

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond

Paolo Roversi 
There's a sense of urgency in her face that I feel in my heart.

"somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands"

by E. E. Cummings

Thursday, May 26, 2011

David Darling Minor Blue

a spy game of sorts

Paolo Roversi
Paolo Roversi

New Endymion


She visits still too much, dressed in aromas
of fir needles, mango, mold: I still get lost
knowing she’s close, me not getting younger
or more conscious. Sometimes I fantasticate
I’m broad awake: her witchy presence waits
for me to jump into her arms, but then she’s just
an incoherent ache in sleep’s freaked scenes.
I feel her frosty nitrogenous hands and wrists
vaporing nooses around my head and feet
and genitals, conjuring my drab hair
into a party bowl of oiled, desirable locks.
She makes me nervous, but what would I do
without her? So long as I can’t have her,
I want her and this alarming manic frequency.
Then again, who wants to wake to change,
its pulped, smelly suit of meat, drawing flies?
My night-watch hot girl, moon-maiden, mom,
let me get just one night’s sleep without regret,
released from your foxy ticklish fondlings,
your latest smell of windblown fresh-cut grass.

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

a little meaning is all...

she really wanted but it's good to know your worth it's brutal and it's honest.

Art work by Natalie Shau

Monday, May 16, 2011

Glen Luchford - Photographer

"I don't dream.
You might say I work under a spell.
I truly value the spell.
I have the privilege of being able to enter the spell, to enter this very arid land where you are likely to find your birthplace..."

--Louise Bourgeois

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

of expectations

"To expect too much is to have a sentimental view of life and this is a softness that ends in bitterness."
Flannery O'Connor

a letter
a letter

ballad of Willie and Rebecca
ballad of Willie and Rebecca

Gustav Mahler for an Unknown Source
Gustav Mahler for an Unknown Source

Tuesday, May 3, 2011


 A family album so worth looking into and how can you resist Aunt Maggie and her magical orbs?

"Produced  as a collaborative family effort by celebrated photographers Emmet and  Elijah Gowin, and with a text by Edith Gowin, Maggie brings together two  generations to honor a beloved, elderly aunt, 98 year-old Margaret  Cooper."—the publisher

Photographs by Emmet and Elijah Gowin. Introduction  by Edith Gowin.                                                                                                                                                                            
Tin Roof Press,    Kansas City, 2008. 56    pp.,  24 tritone and color illustrations.,  11¼x10".  

Monday, May 2, 2011


...There’s unexpected peace here and everyone looks into your eyes.  I’ve never seen you before, but I know you.  I know, I know, it’ll be OK.  We’ll be OK.  You do feel this, don’t you?  I know you do I can see it in those affectionate brown eyes of yours.  Beautiful sad eyes.  Eyes filled with perceptive thought which looks directly into my soul with nothing but love.  It’s quiet here too, but not lonely.  What’s that feeling?  Do you ever wonder what would happen if you got twenty people in a room all with an accepted wisdom, in other words everyone thinking the same thing?  That’s what it is! That’s what unity feels like.  Are we actually standing united as they say? This is what it took... murder.

I’m alone now with the many rows of postal boxes. The sound of my key turning in the lock makes a hallow echo in the corridor, it’s tangible I can almost taste the dirty metal grinding in the chamber.  Every nuance of this day is amplified and ultra sensitive and at the same time on the edge of numbness... 

...Look at us.  Just look at how we are all going at the same pace like a well constructed symphony.  Every blinker in tact, complete stops and not a California roll in site.  No shoving, no pushing, no rushing, no cussing, no cutting and no random acts of kindness.  Just simple common courtesy across the board from everyone nothing random about it!  OK, how weird is this?  What is happening here?  Why is this happening to us?  Why do they hate us so much?  What did we do to them?  Are we being punished?  For what?  Why do they hate us?  I want to be mad but my heart just hurts and this pain only makes me weep...

11:40 am.  Pacific Time
September 11, 2001.

Art work by Leya Mira Brander.