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Eskil Vogt
Norway, 2014
Friday, March 31, 2023
Thursday, March 30, 2023
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WILBUR UNDERWOOD
"The Cattle of His Hand"
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All night long through the starlit air and the stillness,
Through the cool wanness of dawn and the burning of noontide,
Onward we strain with a mighty resounding of hoof-beats.
Heaven and earth are ashake with the terrible trampling;
Wild, straying feet of a vast and hastening army;
Wistful eyes that helplessly seek one another.
Hushed is the dark to hear the plaint of our lowing,
Mournful cry of the dumb-tired hearts within us,
Faint to death with thirst and the gnawing of hunger.
Day by day through the dust and heat have we thirsted;
Day by day through stony ways have we hungered;
Naught but a few bitter herbs that grew by the wayside.
What we flee that is far behind in the darkness,
Where the place of abiding for us, we know not;
Only we hark for the voice of the Master Herdsman.
Many a weary day must pass ere we hear it,
Blown on the winds, now close, now far in the distance,
Deep as the void above us and sweet as the dawn-star.
Wednesday, March 29, 2023
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Tuesday, March 28, 2023
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REDISCOVERIES FROM THE SARA LEVY COLLECTION
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Tempesta di Mare
Philadelphia Baroque Orchestra
Gwyn Roberts
Richard Stone
Emlyn Ngai
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- Sonata da Chiesa No. 2 in A minor, Op. 7
- Sonata da Camera No. 14 in D minor, Op. 3
- Sonata Da Camera No. 21 in G minor, Op. 4
- Ouverture Grosso in G Major
MARGARET ATWOOD
The Blind Assassin
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When you're young, you think everything you do is disposable. You move from now to now, crumpling time up in your hands, tossing it away. You're your own speeding car. You think you can get rid of things, and people too—leave them behind. You don't yet know about the habit they have, of coming back. You can never get away from where you've been.
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Monday, March 27, 2023
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RAMON GUTHRIE
"The Clown's Report on Satyrs"
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On the hoof or dead, a satyr weighs
about the single same. They mingle
with goddesses and singe themselves in flame
that they ignite with steady gaze
while they recite the name of One
who in the olden days
slept on Naxos' shingle,
and they are golden ruddy in the sun
and hold themselves aloof.
A satyr on the hoof is fleet.
Slaughtered, their dark red meat is strong.
Sunday, March 26, 2023
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RICHARD BLANCO
"Burning in the Rain"
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Someday compassion would demand
I set myself free of my desire to recreate
my father, indulge in my mother’s losses,
strangle lovers with words, forcing them
to confess for me and take the blame.
Today was that day: I tossed them, sheet
by sheet on the patio and gathered them
into a pyre. I wanted to let them go
in a blaze, tiny white dwarfs imploding
beside the azaleas and ficus bushes,
let them crackle, burst like winged seeds,
let them smolder into gossamer embers—
a thousand gray butterflies in the wind.
Today was that day, but it rained, kept
raining. Instead of fire, water—drops
knocking on doors, wetting windows
into mirrors reflecting me in the oaks.
The garden walls and stones swelling
into ghostlier shades of themselves,
the wind chimes giggling in the storm,
a coffee cup left overflowing with rain.
Instead of burning, my pages turned
into water lilies floating over puddles,
then tiny white cliffs as the sun set,
finally drying all night under the moon
into papier-mâché souvenirs. Today
the rain would not let their lives burn.
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Saturday, March 25, 2023
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EZRA POUND
"Pan Is Dead"
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Pan is dead. Great Pan is dead.
Ah! bow your heads, ye maidensall,
And weave ye him his coronal.
There is no summer in the leaves,
And withered are the sedges;
How shall we weave a coronal,
Or gather floral pledges?
That I may not say, Ladies.
Death was ever a churl.
That I may not say, Ladies.
How should he show a reason,
That he has taken our Lord away
Upon such hollow season?
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Friday, March 24, 2023
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SAMUEL R. DELANY
Shorter Views - Queer Thoughts and the Politics of the Paraliterary
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In a population that basically feels that Sex Is Bad—or at best a necessary evil—often sex will occur, whether within the bounds of marriage or outside it, only at those moments of extreme need, and then in a paroxysm of guilt, so that the sexual incident itself is likely to be infrequent, desperate, brutal, and brief—and satisfactory, if such a word can even be used for an act which, in their different ways, both "perpetrator" and "victim" probably come to dread—for only the most basal needs of the more aggressive partner.
Thursday, March 23, 2023
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Shorter Views - Queer Thoughts and the Politics of the Paraliterary
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Often, however, certain of our discussions are straited by a fear that without the authoritative appeal to origins and definitions as emblems of some fancied critical mastery, our observations and insights will not be welcomed, will not be taken for the celebrational pleasure that they are. What can I say, other than that we need more confidence in the validity of our own enterprise?
Wednesday, March 22, 2023
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PHILOMENA CUNK
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They threw themselves in front of horses partly to highlight how unfair it was that women didn’t have a vote and horses did. And also because, being women, they really liked ponies.
If it wasn't for the Suffragettes, I wouldn't be standing here right now. I'd be in a kitchen, where I belong.
Tuesday, March 21, 2023
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Christian Watt
UK, 2023
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If Churchill was around today, imagine how good his tweets would have been.
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Today some people choose to turn the outside of their homes into an advent crown. A jolly house covered in electric lights, may be expensive and use a lot of power, but it's the perfect way to cheer up a world worried about climate change and dwindling resources.
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When a feminist looks in a mirror, do they see an equal woman or a better woman?
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