
JBB: An Artblog!
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almost home
Claire Keane
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
$LAYYYTER

oozey mess

shark vs the universe

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
One Nice Bug Per Day
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
wallacepolsom

Product Placement
dirt enthusiast

⁂

Kaledo Art
sheepfilms

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he wasn't even looking at me and he found me

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States

seen from Canada

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States

seen from Belgium

seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from Malaysia

seen from Indonesia

seen from Jordan
seen from Jordan

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
@hold-steady
The Walk
Glamoured the road, the day, and him and her And everywhere they took me. When we stepped out Cobbles were riverbed, the Sunday air A high stream-roof that moved in silence over Rhododendrons in full bloom, foxgloves And hemlock, robin-run-the-hedge, the hedge With its deckled ivy and thick shadows – Until the riverbed itself appeared, Gravelly, shallowly, summery with pools, And made a world rim that was not for crossing. Love brought me that far by the hand, without The slightest doubt or irony, dry-eyed And knowledgeable, contrary as be damned; Then just kept standing there, not letting go. So here is another longshot. Black and white. A negative this time, in dazzle-dark, Smudge and pallor where we make out you and me, The selves we struggled with and struggled out of, Two shades who have consumed each other’s fire, Two flames in sunlight that can sear and singe, But seem like wisps of enervated air, After-wavers, feathery ether-shifts … Yet apt still to rekindle suddenly If we find along the way charred grass and sticks And an old fire-fragrance lingering on, Erotic woodsmoke, witchery, intrigue, Leaving us none the wiser, just better primed To speed the plough again and feed the flame.
- Seamus Heaney
On the way to California And I don't mean California literally
Lisa Hannigan, A Sail (new arrangement)
Otherwise
I got out of bed on two strong legs. It might have been otherwise. I ate cereal, sweet milk, ripe, flawless peach. It might have been otherwise. I took the dog uphill to the birch wood. All morning I did the work I love.
At noon I lay down with my mate. It might have been otherwise. We ate dinner together at a table with silver candlesticks. It might have been otherwise. I slept in a bed in a room with paintings on the walls, and planned another day just like this day. But one day, I know, it will be otherwise.
-Jane Kenyon
The Hold Steady, Don’t Let Me Explode
Brian Wildsmith
The Monk
Winter encloses me. I am fenced, The light, the laugh, the dance Against.
I am like a monk In a grey cell Copying out my soul’s Queer miracle.
What goes on out there In the light Is less than a blue-bottle’s flirtation Yet spite!
I would be a blue-bottle Or a house-fly And let the monk, the task, In darkness lie.
- Patrick Kavanagh
John Bratby, ‘Venetian Afternoon’