Category: language

Sunny. Clear.

Steep incline.

Survival

Survival pending

                               liberation

                               revolution

or begin again

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“Can it be politics without foregrounding dissonance?”

“All sexual experiment in this film has transformative—animating, nauseating, life-threatening—consequences for the participants, whose drama is to want it all: but the task of le mariage pop is to invent an ordinariness for it. In another register we might call that politics.”

via Berlant reading of Last Tango in Paris, directed by Bernardo Bertolucci, 1972.

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Soft Occupation at Sobremesa. A show organized by Juan Pablo Garza.

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Reflections of Buhaina, Art Blakey & the Jazz Messengers,  6:47.

Free flight, Ernie Henry, 5:47.

This kind of concern with managing the inevitable disturbance of intimacy, codependency, or the passions …”

“a scene of a disturbance that smudges the differences among care, pleasure, control focus, and harm tests how we imagine being in the world together.” LB

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Fog.

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Open Call to artists of Haitian descent: Collaborate with the ALAN LOMAX audio archive of Haiti in the 1930s. Due : June 15, 2026. (Haitian Cultural Exchange)

Specific Cultural Projects Deadline : July 10, 2026 (Florida Division of Arts & Culture Grants)

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A glimpse through an interstice caught,

Of a crowd of workmen and drivers in a bar-room around the stove late of a winter night, and I unremark’d seated in a corner,

Of a youth who loves me and whom I love, silently approaching and seating himself near, that he may hold me by the hand,

A long while amid the noises of coming and going, of drinking and oath and smutty jest,

There we two, content, happy in being together, speaking little, perhaps not a word.

A Glimpse, Walt Whitman

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O Thou bright jewel in my aim I strive
To comprehend thee. Thine own words declare
Wisdom is higher than a fool can reach.
I cease to wonder, and no more attempt
Thine height t’explore, or fathom thy profound.
But, O my soul, sink not into despair,
Virtue is near thee, and with gentle hand
Would now embrace thee, hovers o’er thine head.
Fain would the heav’n-born soul with her converse,
Then seek, then court her for her promis’d bliss.

Auspicious queen, thine heav’nly pinions spread,
And lead celestial Chastity along;
Lo! now her sacred retinue descends,
Array’d in glory from the orbs above.
Attend me, Virtue, thro’ my youthful years!
O leave me not to the false joys of time!
But guide my steps to endless life and bliss.
Greatness, or Goodness, say what I shall call thee,
To give an higher appellation still,
Teach me a better strain, a nobler lay,
O thou, enthron’d with Cherubs in the realms of day!

On Virtue, Phillis Wheatley

Being called all manner of things
from the Dictionary of Shame—
not English, not words, not heard,
but worn, borne, carried, never spent—
we feel now a largeness coming on,
something passing into us. We know
not in what source it was begun, but
rapt, we watch it rise through our fallen,
our slain, our millions dragged, chained.
Like daylight setting leaves alight—
green to gold to blinding white.
Like a spirit caught. Flame-in-flesh.
I watched a woman try to shake it, once,
from her shoulders and hips. A wild
annihilating fright. Other women
formed a wall around her, holding back
what clamored to rise. God. Devil.
Ancestor. What Black bodies carry
through your schools, your cities.
Do you see how mighty you’ve made us,
all these generations running?
Every day steeling ourselves against it.
Every day coaxing it back into coils.
And all the while feeding it.
And all the while loving it.

We Feel Now A Largeness Coming On, Tracy K. Smith

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