Dig

  • AG2025-2010_IMG_0720a is just gravy


    Friend or no friend,
    darkness or light,
    vowels or consonants,
    water or dry land,

    anything more from you now
    is just gravy
    —just send me down forgiveness, send me down
    bearing myself a black cupful of light.

    To the Black Madonna of Chartres, Jean Valentine


    How like a winter hath my absence been
    From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!
    What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen!
    What old December’s bareness every where!
    And yet this time remov’d was summer’s time;
    The teeming autumn, big with rich increase,
    Bearing the wanton burden of the prime,
    Like widow’d wombs after their lords’ decease:
    Yet this abundant issue seem’d to me
    But hope of orphans and unfather’d fruit;
    For summer and his pleasures wait on thee,
    And, thou away, the very birds are mute:
    Or, if they sing, ’tis with so dull a cheer,
    That leaves look pale, dreading the winter’s near.

    How like a winter hath my absence been (Sonnet 97), William Shakespeare

  • AG2025_1177987a


    In 2002 [Anne] Carson became the first woman to receive England’s T.S. Eliot Prize for Poetry for The Beauty of the Husband: A Fictional Essay in 29 Tangos. Paris Review (2004).


    To me, one silly task is like another.
    I bare the shambling tricks of lust and pride.
    This flesh will never give a child its mother,
    Song, like a wing, tears through my breast, my side,
    And madness chooses out my voice again,
    Again. I am the chosen no hand saves:
    The shrieking heaven lifted over men,
    Not the dumb earth, wherein they set their graves.

    Cassandra, Louise Bogan

  • A drawing

  • AG2025_1530242a


    It is a shocking thing 
    to know how possible finality can be:
    the burden of it, weighing on backs.  
    Look up: hear that cheeping that comes 
    at dusk: focus on the sound of it: looking  
    for direction, avoiding obstacles. 
    There is no comfort in this. 
    This is me hoping to find something  
    in the resurrection moss. How it clings 
    to limbs that make arches over the roads  
    that I drive. This is me leaving the nail 
    in my tire. Filling my tire with air every ten days. 
    This is me leaving again.

    Manifesto, Kelan Nee


    River of Grass, a film by Sasha Wortzel. Website. Fb. (10/17-23 @ Coral Gables Art Cinema, Miami, FL)

  • AG2025_1170336a and all


    all of this
    is magic against death

    – Frank Stanford

  • for me to lift my window and yell

    Firespitter: The Collected Poems of Jayne Cortez (Nightboat, 2025).

    The Poetry Project presents an evening celebrating the publication. (Livestream)


    Talked bopology talk
    Laughed in high-pitched saxophone phrases
    Became keeper of every Bird riff
    every Lester lick
    as Hawk melodicized my ear of infatuated tongues
    & Blakey drummed militant messages in
    soul of my applauding teeth
    & Ray hit bass notes to the last love seat in my bones

    Jazz Fan Looks Back, Jayne Cortez


    Why do people always choose saturdays
    to wig out
    I mean the ones who scream leave me alone
    i hate your guts
    why do they always choose 2:05 pm saturdays
    to say get the hell outa here
    I mean the ones kicking walls
    slamming doors
    crushing skulls
    why do they always have to choose saturdays for
    me to lift my window and yell
    shut the fuck up

    Saturdays, Jayne Cortez

  • It is synonymous with struggle, change and overcoming material and metaphorical borders

    Marcuse’s utopia: right here, not yet, and over
    Margath Walker, Department of Geography and Geosciences, University of Louisville, USA

    The most striking aspect setting Herbert Marcuse apart from other principal figures identified with the
    Frankfurt School is his unwavering commitment to the utopian spirit, to the possibility of a better
    future. While there are many lines of connection between Marcuse and Ernst Bloch’s Principle of Hope, most notably in the idea that the process of attaining utopia is a self-generating one rather than a pre-existing ideal state to strive for, Marcuse politicizes the concept by building on Bloch’s formulations. He writes that while the established reality principle has cast utopia as a placeless place beyond reach, the notion and desire for utopia is a necessary component of the human mind. Here, I seek to characterize Marcuse’s vision through a geographic lens and argue that utopia is a realizable place, itself part of his larger project of dialectical thinking. Utopia is commonly understood as both ‘good place’ and ‘no place’ but for Marcuse it is more. Across the breadth of his work, utopia is right here, not yet, and over. In elaborating these three phases, I argue that utopia stretches beyond juridical-territorial conceptualizations reconfiguring temporal borders through an activation of the ‘disallowed’, an articulation of oppositional space rooted in imagination. Spatio-temporal plurality is precisely what imbues utopia with power; at times translating into elusiveness and at others appearing right before us to thwart pessimism and defeatism. Marcuse’s work on utopia is integral to a prefigurative politics where the concept of becoming is integral. It is synonymous with struggle, change and overcoming material and metaphorical borders.

    via Utopia at the Border, 2016.


    Spatializing Marcuse, Critical Theory for Contemporary Times, Margath A. Walker · 2022

    On Marcuse And Liberation Philosophy: Arnold Farr, interviewed by Margath Walker. May 15, 2015.


    Herbert Marcuse

  • Best to stick to your stations


    Harlem is a sentimental place and set in its ways, and when the white world can take away you and yours in an instant some folks hold on to the sure and the same.

    It was best to stick to your stations, he had learned, where you belong.

    Jennifer Jackson and Jean Bell

    (CW)