
iv.
I know agape means both dumbly
open and love not the kind of love
that climbed the stairs to you.
Sweet Double, Talk-Talk [iv.], Catherine Barnett

iv.
I know agape means both dumbly
open and love not the kind of love
that climbed the stairs to you.
Sweet Double, Talk-Talk [iv.], Catherine Barnett

Attend to these found and delicate marks; distinct sentiments may arise; small oscillations
remains all supple hands and gesture
skin of language
fusing its finest seam
in fluent light
with a raised finger
dance of lips
each sentence complete
he speaks to the shadow
of leaves
strung tissue paper
snipped into delicate flags
on which side of the conversation
did anyone begin?
wearing two skins
the brilliant question mark of Mexico
stands on its head
like an answer
The Man Whose Voice Has Been Taken From His Throat, Naomi Shihab Nye

I have just realized that the stakes are myself
I have no other
ransom money, nothing to break or barter but my life
my spirit measured out, in bits, spread over
the roulette table, I recoup what I can
nothing else to shove under the nose of the maitre de jeu
nothing to thrust out the window, no white flag
this flesh all I have to offer, to make the play with
this immediate head, what it comes up with, my move
as we slither over this go board, stepping always
(we hope) between the lines
Revolutionary Letter #1, Diane di Prima
Dans la nuit du 23 au 24 août 2026, Kenscoff a une nouvelle fois été frappée par les gangs : au moins 47 morts, dont cinq enfants, plus de 50 personnes enlevées et 25 maisons incendiées. (Haiti Inter)
Man on the street via FB (Medya Laria )

Look at where we are, Hot Chip (Major Lazer Remix).
In for the Kill, La Roux.
I’m going in for the kill
I’m doing it for a thrill
Oh, I’m hoping you’ll understand
And not let go of my hand

The heart of a bear is a cloud-shuttered
mountain. The heart of a mountain’s a kiln.
The white heart of a moth has nineteen white
chambers. The heart of a swan is a swan.
The heart of a wasp is a prick of plush.
The heart of a skunk is a mink. The heart
of an owl is part blood and part chalice.
The fey mouse heart rides a dawdy dust-cart.
The heart of a kestrel hides a house wren
at nest. The heart of lark is a czar.
The heart of a scorpion is swidden
and spark. The heart of a shark is a gear.
Listen and tell, thrums the grave heart of humans.
Listen well love, for it’s pitch dark down here.
Arrhythmia, Hailey Leithauser

Doreen St. Félix (New Yorker) and Maggie Haberman (NYTimes)on a lady of the moment.
And then life suggests that you remember the
years you ran around, the years you developed
a shocking lifestyle, advocated careless abandon,
owned a chilly heart. Upon reflection, you are
genuinely surprised to find how quiet you have
become. And then life lets you go home to think
about all this. Which you do, for quite a long time.
[…]
Starfish, Eleanor Lerman