Dig

  • The lifespan of awe

    “The lifespan of awe”

    “Get lost in the magic of the place.”

    “[My] job is to gauge an appetite for the new. I broker possibilities.”

    -Christopher Bollen, The Lost Americans


  • AG2023_1066644a barely holds

    AG2023_1066644a

    Some faint impressions barely held by this arrangement.


    “… some of the fragments of the afternoon might be collected, and I concentrated my attention with careful subtlety to this end” – Eliot

  • AG2022_2110775a or what we value

    AG2022_2110775a

    What must be valued–spaces where … thought, sunshine, flowers, intangibles, necessities, time, freedom … are held.


    “What must be valued
    I’m learning,

    in clarity and in error,
    are spaces

    where
    feelings are held.

    Here—in a poem?
    And elsewhere”

    – Jenny Johnson, Spaces

    “Thought, sunshine, flowers: they wanted intangible as well as tangible goods, pleasures as well as necessities, and the time to pursue them, the time to have an inner life and freedom to roam the outer world.” (Solnit, Orwell’s Roses)

  • Take a bit of work

    Work by Charlotte Day Wilson via Euphoria.


    EW+AG2018_LAND12x20
    EW+AG2018_LAND12x20 or and you’ll have to wait a million years to see me again (After Synecdoche)
  • I have no solution

    Tangier in Only Lovers Left Alive.


    Yasmine Hamdan – Hal

  • AG2023_1800287c

    AG2023_1800287c

    indeterminacy, not fixed, not precise, not known.

  • A place to stand and stare; Aubade East–

    Untitled (A place to stand and stare; Aubade East–Today’s the day, I can taste it / This morning there ain’t nothing I can’t do)

    Untitled (A place to stand and stare; Aubade East–then play the rest of the day / as it comes see where it goes / feeling good / feeling good)


    Aubade: East by Rita Dove

    Harlem, a.m.

    Today’s the day, I can taste it.

    Got my gray sweats pouting in a breeze

    so soft, I feel like I’m still wrapped for sleeping

    as I head uptown in my undercover power-suit,

    bitch sunlight fingering the spaced-out tenements.

    This morning there ain’t nothing I can’t do.

    This is my territory, I know all of it—

    ten long blocks flanked by mighty water.

    Walking any Avenue is like riding

    a cosmic surfboard on the biggest wave

    of the goddam century, the East River

    twerking her bedazzled behind

    while sky spills coin like a luck-crazed

    Vegas granny flush at the slots. Today

    I’m gonna make out like a bandit myself:

    hook up with my buds to drop

    a few shots on the courts, ogle the ladies,

    then play the rest of the day

    as it comes                see where it goes

    feeling good

    feeling good

    somewhere over the Hudson

    the sun                      heading home

    via The Georgia Review, Spring 2016 and Playlist for the Apocalypse: Poems.

  • A moment that can hardly be improved

    AG2023_1800221b

    “And if a glass of ice tea and an anthology
    of seventeen century devotional poetry
    with a dark blue cover are available,
    then the picture can hardly be improved

    All I wanted was to be a pea of being
    at rest inside the pod of time”

    -Billy Collins, The Moment