Chris Marker, Letter from Siberia, 1957
Happy Birthday, Chris Marker!
I laughed when I made these screencaps, ACAB
Cosmic Funnies
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One Nice Bug Per Day
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todays bird

Kiana Khansmith

if i look back, i am lost

祝日 / Permanent Vacation

tannertan36
occasionally subtle
Peter Solarz

Love Begins
Misplaced Lens Cap
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he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
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@snitnation
Chris Marker, Letter from Siberia, 1957
Happy Birthday, Chris Marker!
I laughed when I made these screencaps, ACAB
At gate C22 in the Portland airport
the couple stood there, arms wrapped around each other like he’d just staggered off the boat at Ellis Island, like she’d been released at last from ICU, snapped out of a coma, survived bone cancer, made it down from Annapurna in only the clothes she was wearing. --Ellen Bass
“I’d cut my soul into a million different pieces just to form a constellation to light your way home. I’d write love poems to the parts of yourself you can’t stand. I’d stand in the shadows of your heart and tell you I’m not afraid of your dark.” - Andrea Gibson, Slip Your Mind
https://ohandreagibson.tumblr.com/slipypourmind
Today a poet and a puppy
Passed from this world to the next
I can only hope that their paths crossed
We can see the sun from space
Tiny insects from the clouds
Love deepens from its loss
At last I've learned
Every goodbye
Is a grave
I must start leaving
Flowers at the caskets
While they're empty
Seeds of light
My bitten lips
Kiss another bruise
E tu svanisci
Dondola il treno Tra una scossa e la successiva Dei binari che curvano in periferia Sprazzi di sole arancione Sopra la linea degli edifici Sembri triste Nel riflesso del vetro Le mani serrate sulle corregge Dello zaino floscio Le labbra strette Ho voglia di colmare Lo spazio tra me e te Ma il ferro e l'acciaio frena forte Le porte si aprono e tu svanisci Lasciando dietro di te Solo l'ombra tremolante Che non ho saputo afferrare
High Windows
by Philip Larkin
When I see a couple of kids And guess he’s fucking her and she’s Taking pills or wearing a diaphragm, I know this is paradise
Everyone old has dreamed of all their lives — Bonds and gestures pushed to one side Like an outdated combine harvester, And everyone young going down the long slide
To happiness, endlessly. I wonder if Anyone looked at me, forty years back, And thought, That’ll be the life; No God anymore, or sweating in the dark
About hell and that, or having to hide What you think of the priest. He And his lot will all go down the long slide Like free bloody birds. And immediately
Rather than words comes the thought of high windows: The sun-comprehending glass, And beyond it, the deep blue air, that shows Nothing, and is nowhere, and is endless.
poem for johnie war
an artehago anti poem
the poem i read was
good though
i think i misread the room
habit from
mytumblr
days
that i just
dont trust all my
current poems
sometimes
having just birthed them
loving unsure
before ever reading
now with poems on
instagram and
with reading
i've overcome some
of this
but i forgot
the poem is the poem
and i can live with it
free
but i forgot
and picked a trending
poem
when i got to the
mic to read
the format was off
poem was off
here was an older
poem from
newly landed on
shore, ragged
conquistador
that i picked up to
present
tripping on the dash
and artehago
subtitle
believing in this
i tripped
were i was
reading a
conquistador
poem
to a room filled
with chicano poets
“ You never think the last time is going to be the last time.You think there will be more. You think you have forever but you don’t.” …Jacqueline Kennedy
60 years ago today.
The San Francisco Examiner, California, November 16, 1933
Some b&w street shot from Annecy, France.
And so she pined, and so she died forlorn, Imploring for her Basil to the last. No heart was there in Florence but did mourn In pity of her love, so overcast. And a sad ditty of this story born mouth to mouth through all the country pass’d: Still is the burthen sung—"O cruelty, To steal my Basil-pot away from me!"
— John Keats, Isabella
“Every story I create, creates me. I write to create myself.” ―Octavia E. Butler
J.-P. Caron – Breviário, pictures from the booklet+CD released by Estranhas Ocupações, Recife, Brazil, December 2015 [Bandcamp]
Music-wise, Breviário is a fine mix of metropolitan recordings, concrete sounds, conservatory rehearsal rooms and manipulated sounds. Hints of musique concrète and noise. Beautiful piano abuse on track #10. Prolonged cymbal abuse on closing track #11. The booklet includes drawings and graphic scores.
Brazilian composer and improviser Jean-Pierre Caron, from São Paulo, Brazil, was born in Rio de Janeiro in 1982. He’s currently preparing a degree in Philosophy of Language at Paris 8 university in France. As a musician, Caron is interested in both contemporary and noise music. He played detuned piano in an improvisation duo on Oco in 2013 [Bandcamp] and explored solo synthesizer drone music on 8³ in 2014 [Bandcamp].
Thanks Joseph for this one.
Mark Bradford: ‘We The People’, Curated by Virginia Shore & Welmoed Laanstra, United States Embassy, London, January-February 2018 [© Mark Bradford. Hauser & Wirth, New York, NY. Photo: © Joshua White]
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