“All artists dream of a silence which they must enter, as some creatures return to the sea to spawn.” ~ Iris Murdoch

Fred Williams Charred Wooded Hillside, watercolour and gouache nd

“Charred Wooded Hillside” (nd, watercolor and gouache)
by Fred Williams

                   

“The heartless dark begins calling: this is the word.
You have heard me once before and shall again.” ~ Michael Burkard,from “The Parallel”

In my dream, the poet says, “Come to Pueblo, Colorado. Make me a believer.” My mother tries on a bright green dress and looks for a glass to match. She asks me if I like Fiesta ware. I hide all of the things I have bought behind the driver’s seat in my old, orange VW bug, and lock the door, while Paul tells me not to buy him any biking clothes because he doesn’t ride his bike any more. I tell my mother that I want to attend the poetry reading, and she agrees, but stands in the back with her friend Alice. I sit on the floor in the front but then realize that it’s an interpretive dance presentation, and I know that my mother will hate it, and I think that i should leave, but the poet comes and sits next to me and shows me the label from a ramen package. I ask him how it can taste like shrimp but contain no seafood. He points to a long word and tells me that it’s a chemical name for shrimp. The dance routine is better than I had hoped, but when I go to the back of the room to find my mother, she isn’t there. I think to myself that my mother would never wear a bright green dress.

Music by Cocorosie, “Gallows”

                   

I used to love winter

In the past, I was inclined to love winter,
and I listen to my body.
Rain,rain, like a love letter pours licentiously
from the imprudent heavens.
Winter. A cry. An echo
hungry for the embrace of women.
In the distance, the steamy breath
of a horse carrying clouds…white, white.
I used to love winter, to walk joyfully to my
rendezvous in space drenched in water.
My love used to dry my short hair with
Long hair luxuriant with wheat and chestnuts.
She was not content with singing
I and winter love you,
so stay with us!
She would warm my heart
on two hot gazelle fawns.
I used to love winter,
and I would listen to it,
drop by drop.
Rain, rain like an appeal to a lover,
Pour down my body!
Winter was not lament pointing
to the end of life. It was the beginning. It was hope.
So what shall I do, as life falls like hair?
What will I do this winter?

~ Mahmoud Darwish

“I drank coffee and read old books and waited for the year to end.” ~ Richard Brautigan, from Trout Fishing In America

“the tea smoke
and the willow
together trembling” ~ Kobayashi Issa

Internet was out until late today. I fell asleep in the wee hours of the morning and did not sleep well, awaking with a headache and heavy sinuses. Spent most of today dealing with customer service representatives. I am completely spent.

I can only offer you this . . .

My love affair with coffee is only surpassed by my much longer love affair with tea, which I began to drink when I was but a child. England, you know. Milky tea and hot bread and butter. Good times . . .

A cup of tea by tee-magazin.de

                   

A Sweetening All Around Me As It Falls

Even generous August
only a child’s scribblings
on thick black paper, in smudgeable chalk –
even the ripening tomatoes, even the roses,
blowsy, losing their fragrance of black tea.
A winter light held this morning’s apples
as they fell, sweet, streaked by one touch
of the careless brush, appling to earth.
The seeds so deep inside they carry that cold.
Is this why some choose solitude, to rise
that small bit further, unencumbered by love of earth,
as the branches, lighter, kite now a little higher
on gold air? But the apples love the earth and falling,
lose themselves in it as much as they can at first touch
and then, with time and rain, at last completely:
to be that bone-like One that shines unleafed in
winter rain,
all black and glazed with not the pendant gold of
necklaced summer but the ice-color mirroring
starlight
when the earth is lonely and dark and knows nothing
of apples.
Seed-black of the paper, seed-black of the waiting
heart—
December’s shine, austere and fragile, carves the
visible tree.
But today, cut deep in last plums, in yellow pears,
in second flush of roses, in the warmth of an hour,
now late,
as drunk on heat as the girl who long ago vanished
into green trees,
fold that loneliness, one moment, two, love, back into
your arms.

~ Jane Hirshfield

                   

Music by Maggie Siff, “Lullaby for a Soldier”

“I spoke to a girl today who had cancer and we were talking about how this is such a hard thing for her, but it taught her a big lesson on who her friends are and so much about life. She’s 18. And I was like, that’s how I feel.” ~ Kim Kardashian

We can always count on celebrities to say stupid things for posterity, like the time when Christina Aguilera asked, “So where’s the Cannes Film Festival being held this year?” Or this little sadly said but true: David Letterman was teasing the pop star [Justin Bieber] about his latest tattoo, urging him to draw the line at creating a mural like “the Sistine Chapel,” when the Biebs responded, “I’m not going for the Sixteenth Chapel.”

So I thought this particular post from Curious History was fitting, mostly because of the top one and the No Kardashians sign:

Amazing Street Art from Plastic Jesus

From the crowded urban streets of Los Angeles, California comes a street artist known as Plastic Jesus. He creates incredible and controversial art installations, such as a giant mouse-trap with credit cards as bait, a fake grave with flowers and a mock rifle positioned as a headstone for the 11,458 people killed during 2011 and 2012 with automatic weapons or a giant spilled can of Mountain Dew cordoned off as if it were toxic waste. He consistently creates public mixed-media pieces that point out the negative aspects of our culture into something thought provoking. The installations above are titled as followed:

  • Stop Making Stupid People Famous
  • Credit Trap
  • Toxic Hazard
  • No Kardashians
  • American Excess
  • RIP 11,458

source 1, 2, 3