#ashbery

[yiiiiiiiikes25]

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

matthew leger :: @lightumbreIla

Ashbery on Pollock and the importance of recklessness in our art ~ "Most reckless things are beautiful in some way, and recklessness is what makes experimental art beautiful, just as religions are beautiful because of the strong possibility that they are founded on nothing."

[timebythetail]

When the Sun Went Down John Ashbery To have been loved once by someone—surely There is a permanent good in that, Even if we don’t know all the circumstances Or it happened too long ago to make any difference. Like almost too much sunlight or an abundance of sweet-sticky, Caramelized things—who can tell you it’s wrong? Which of the others on your team could darken the passive Melody that runs on, that has been running since the world began? Yet, to be strapped to one’s mindset, which seems As enormous as a plain, to have to be told That its horizons are comically confining, And all the sorrow wells from there, like the slanting Plume of a waterspout: doesn’t it supplant knowledge Of the different forms of love, reducing them To a white indifferent prism, a roofless love standing open To the elements? And some see in this paradigm of how it rises Slowly to the indifferent heavens, all that pale glamour? The refrain is desultory as birdsong, it seeps unrecognizably Into the familiar structures that lead out from here To the still familiar peripheries and less sure notions: It already had its way. In time for evening relaxation. There are times when music steals a march on us, Is suddenly perplexingly nearer, flowing in my wrist; Is the true and dirty words you whisper nightly As the book closes like a collapsing sheet, a blur Of all kinds of connotations ripped from the hour and tossed Like jewels down a well; the answer, also, To the question that was on my mind but that I’ve forgotten, Except in the way certain things, certain nights, come together.

[onetwofeb]

Look at how a pond reflects trees—imperfectly, perhaps, yet as perfectly as it knows how, and the little mistakes in the reflection are what makes it charming and nice, gives stealth to what would otherwise be a random picture of choice. Surely this is the reason we are all drawn to art, and why art loves us, and if anything were any different, that is more or less perfect, it wouldn’t have the same hold over us. What I mean is we can dream safely in our environment because art has set soft, invisible limits to it.

JOHN ASHBERY, The Kane Richmond Project

[uutpoetry]

There was no one there. No one to appreciate me. The legality of it upset a chair.

John Ashbery, “The New Higher”

[ambientlightning]

Trevor Winkfield - John Ashbery, 2017

[jasmineandviolet]

Reading Self-Portrait in a Convex Mirror by John Ashbery 📚🍵

[boyzlatin]

“He says he doesn’t feel like working today. It’s just as well. Here in the shade Behind the house, protected from street noises,   One can go over all kinds of old feeling, Throw some away, keep others.                                             The wordplay Between us gets very intense when there are   Fewer feelings around to confuse things. Another go-round? No, but the last things You always find to say are charming, and rescue me   Before the night does. We are afloat On our dreams as on a barge made of ice, Shot through with questions and fissures of starlight   That keep us awake, thinking about the dreams As they are happening. Some occurrence. You said it. I said it but I can hide it. But I choose not to.   Thank you. You are a very pleasant person.   Thank you. You are too.”

— John Ashbery, “My Erotic Double”