As if some little Arctic flower,
Upon the polar hem,
Went wandering down the latitudes,
Until it puzzled came
To continents of summer,
To firmaments of sun,
To strange, bright crowds of flowers,
And birds of foreign tongue!
I say, as if this little flower
To Eden wandered in —
What then? Why, nothing, only,
Your inference therefrom!
Here is a place where nothing can die
Darkness that lives beneath the leaves
We bring our nights there without knowing
We bring our fear there before the singing begins
We bring our silent names there hoping we are forgiven
We bring our hands there scented of a river
We bring our prayers that hide and watch us
The landscape where we have held the loose feathers
Of a fallen bird
And awakened in the land of the unseen
Here is a place where nothing can die …
– Lance Henson
Collaborative performance by Amanda Linares + Legna Rodríguez Iglesias
It was the name that called forth the true him.
Anarchic, wandering
There were no photos of them, but they were there in the pictures of trees behind their houses, the fields where they worked, the river they fished, the church where they testified, the joints where they drank.
TM, Tar Baby
…protect important black art, yes.
‘Great if you like Baron Samedi staring at you from every corner of the house.’
Academics lack range.
ZS
The Miami Individual Artists (MIA) Grants Program provides non-matching awards to individual artists of all disciplines in Miami-Dade County on a competitive basis to support their artistic development and practice.
Thank you for this grant. (FY24-25).
as if it were a scene made-up by the mind,
that is not mine, but is a made place,that is mine, it is so near to the heart,
Robert Duncan, Often I Am Permitted to Return to a Meadow
an eternal pasture folded in all thought
“The word “poet” derives from the ancient Greek ??????? (poietes) which translates simply enough as “a maker.” The word ???? (phren) can be translated as either “heart” or “mind.” The ancient Greeks thought the heart might be filled with the phantasms of all that we love, a kind of breath or pneuma, in Greek, that moves through the senses and embeds the image in the heart—a kind of pasture where we learn to think, learn to feel. We can imagine the poem as a fold in that eternal, internal pasture—a place that voice forms.”
Dan Beachy-Quick in Poetry.
Kendrick Lamar, wacced out murals
“Imagination, too, is old habit, assiduously maintained despite consequences.” EG
Cathreine Cattaruzza. Depuis 1992, elle poursuit un travail photographique sur Beyrouth. Fb video (at the Lebanese Pavilion-Venice Architecture 2018).
Some people say the devil is beating
his wife. Some people say the devil
is pawing his wife. Some people say
the devil is doubling down on an overall
attitude of entitlement toward
the body of his wife. Some people
say the devil won’t need to be sorry,
as the devil believes that nothing
comes after this life. Some people say
that in spite of the devil’s public,
long-standing, and meticulously
logged disdain for the health
and wholeness of his wife, the devil
spends all day, every day, insisting
grandly and gleefully on his general
pro-woman ethos, that the devil truly
considers himself to be an unswayed
crusader: effortlessly magnetic,
scrupulous, gracious, and, in spite of
the devil’s several advanced degrees,
a luminous autodidact. Some people
say calm down; this is commonplace.
Some people say calm down;
this is very rare. Some people say
the sun is washing her face. Some
people say in Hell, they’re having a fair.
Sunshower, Natalie Shapero
Senator Bernie Sanders of Vermont, on The Daily, discusses his diagnosis and how to chart a path back to power for National Democratic Party. He is correct in his analysis.