пятница, 12 февраля 2010
четверг, 11 февраля 2010
среда, 10 февраля 2010
B.S. Wise has added a photo to the pool:
Bus Stop
BY DONALD JUSTICE
Lights are burning
In quiet rooms
Where lives go on
Resembling ours.
The quiet lives
That follow us—
These lives we lead
But do not own—
Stand in the rain
So quietly
When we are gone,
So quietly ...
And the last bus
Comes letting dark
Umbrellas out—
Black flowers, black flowers.
And lives go on.
And lives go on
Like sudden lights
At street corners
Or like the lights
In quiet rooms
Left on for hours,
Burning, burning.
Donald Justice, “Bus Stop” from New and Selected Poems. Copyright © 1995 by Donald Justice. Reprinted with the permission of Alfred A. Knopf, a division of Random House, Inc.
Source: New & Selected Poems (Alfred A. Knopf, 1995)
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Radiohead: "How To Disappear Completely"
вторник, 09 февраля 2010
fotodiman has added a photo to the pool:
Iceland
Hasselblad 500 CM - obj. Zeiss Compur T-Planar 1:2,8-80 mm - Kodak film TMAX 100
B.S. Wise has added a photo to the pool:
The Unreliable Narrator
BY KEITH WALDROP
A great crime: she has
plunged a dagger into the heart
of her mother.
Strange.
The strangest thing: a mocking little pride with
a sinister click as of a fitting together of bad
pieces.
Beyond knowing. The mesmerist’s only
child. A certain indication of anemia, too much
candy, and her charming eyes.
A privilege to be near her. My
inspiriation. I risk an approach, what I call “the light of
day.” Movements, with perfect indifference, turn
place and shrink. One
might have seen less: the glimmer of
nothing. I caught no full-blown
flower of theory. And yet such visions pale in
flight.
Gorgeous, the domestic manufacture
of sausages.
Swallow and “so calligraphic a bird.”
Somebody in Dickens. Attaching
diminutive eggs.
A glamour of memory.
Assurance of intimacy on the
summer air.
Nothing to explain. We
needed breathing time. Enough to
laugh. Odd what a difference. Only to
whistle to her. Delighted to come.
I know. Prepared to reply and turning a think skein of
sewing silk sus-
pended in
entanglement. Shown “the faintest far-off
chords,” I ask myself.
Our doom complete.
The difference, so simple: she had
folded up her manner. Great advantages now, my
dear, if he will show you. Dis-
appointment and its train might enter.
The wedding day, the fever season. But
they’re dying. Kindred circle of the
tipsy, come to call. Lurid memory
remained with me, was indeed our sense of
“dissipation.” (Horses. A high aesthetic revel.) Rome
made him invest unconscionable sums in postage. He
received answers in a delicate hand or tried to think.
Sublime snythesis. A bridge
over—liable to rear up. You just had to
wait for it, curiosity worked up with
a hard-boiled egg and a doughnut.
(Very ugly, but
I LIKE UGLY. Just the
sort of ugliness to
be like looking.)
Happy, he entered the streetcar’s
nocturnal “exercise,” the platform it evidently
was to be. Bad lecture-blood her enthusiasm. Catchpenny
monsters. The ideal day with that sense of resorting.
In imagination, we mean to do well. No faith in girlhood, her antediluvian
theories not much better. Well, she should get
rid of him. The logical hero.
Keith Waldrop, “The Unreliable Narrator” from Transcendental Studies: A Trilogy.
Copyright © 2009 by the Regents of the University of California. Reprinted by permission of University of California Press.
Source: Transcendental Studies: A Trilogy (University of California Press, 2009)
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Neko Case: "Things that Scare Me"
B.S. Wise has added a photo to the pool:
Little Black Tangrams
BY DARA WIER
1
No one felt in the dark for his hat.
No one budged an inch.
Thus the story draws to its end.
No one felt over the edge
of her silk pocket to touch her parking ticket.
No one even wished to
walk out of the dark to the street.
2
Over the transparent page I traced my name.
I thought about The Bird That Turns Around,
How To Blow A Brick Over, What To Do
While Waiting For The Doctor, Answers To
Problems On Page 2,000, The Chair That
Comes To You, The Mysterious Paper Purse,
The Universe Around Us, Lift To Erase.
3
Those days everything I thought trembled
through the rotating blades of an electric fan.
The way my voice moved through it.
The way my fingers shook.
I wore a two-tiered hat.
A dead mule is huge.
The man with the stick was fat.
4
A dead deer has the face of a rat.
Last night I watched seven white deer
walk single file across the black edge,
the levee’s border.
Slowly, each one looked me over,
saw I was sleeping, and soon came closer
to lick my face all over.
5
All fall I played at being a slave.
In the red embers of fires I made
I burned slips of paper with politicians’ names
to pass the time.
I cooked rich soups of dragonflies.
I learned to aim an arrow
through a devilhorse’s brain.
6
I sat alone by the water.
They trusted me with the river.
When United Fruit Company boats
headed for port, upriver,
I called out to sailors,
down came stalks of bananas
to snag and bring up to the batture.
7
When the polls opened until the polls closed
two men dangled their rifles over their shoulders
and pretended they couldn’t be seen.
The men and women who came were embarrassed.
They looked down at the white glare
of crushed shells at their feet.
They looked off into the distance.
8
In the hot sun on the wooden platform
I stood waiting for the icehouse doors to open.
I wanted to be asked inside
the cool bricks of smoking water, frozen
and squared in fifty-pound blocks,
rattling along belts of silver rollers.
I wanted to be cool and dry.
9
The women were left locked in the house.
The rifle’s blue-black barrel shone
in the corner against the white, white wall.
Somewhere in the swamps around us
a man threw himself against the dark.
I couldn’t understand why our lights were on.
I wondered if he would drown.
10
I was afraid of the iridescent algae pool,
hit with glaze after an afternoon storm,
lifted like a giant keyhole,
lit by the great green eyeball behind it,
watching me, watching me turn away,
watching me look back, watching me, for all I knew,
catch my breath, not wanting to give it back.
11
We walked into the parking lot
after 10 o’clock mass on Sunday.
A car’s blur crossed our path
so close I felt the heat of the sun
in the hot wind off its fender.
They only meant to scare us.
I felt then what my prayers might have been.
12
That afternoon someone decided to slaughter the
rabbits.
They held the scruffs of their necks,
whacked their soft brown crowns
with cracked baseball bats.
Each one bled through the nose.
We fed their guts to the alligator
by the shed in the deep, deep hole.
13
I watched them kissing, kissing in sorrow,
in the sitting rooms in the funeral parlor.
They were drinking cafe au lait
and eating ham sandwiches.
Yes, there were so many flowers.
I didn’t want to be kissed in sorrow.
I didn’t want to be patted or pitied.
14
The squeak and thump and mist of flit
as someone pumped sprays of insecticide.
It fell over my face, like a blessing,
like a tingling sensation in my fingers,
like a thousand evaporating lessons,
it fell on the oil lamp’s wick.
The flame danced. It wobbled, dipped and brightened.
Reprinted from The Book of Knowledge: “Little Black Tangrams” by permission of Carnegie Mellon University Press Copyright © 1988 by Dara Wier.
Source: The Book of Knowledge (Carnegie Mellon University Press, 1988)
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The Killers: "Shadowplay"
пятница, 05 февраля 2010
peterflash has added a photo to the pool:
Leica M9, Summicron 2,0/50 mm with f 2 and 1/90 sec, 1600 asa - crop
четверг, 04 февраля 2010
Dushan B. Hadnadjev <off/on> has added a photo to the pool:
View Large On White
....selfportrait....
...моја маленкост као војник-граничар СФРЈ покрај граничног камена број. XYZ, не сећам се више а и број се не види на фотографији, иза камена одмах је ознаке "Е" тј. Грчка. Место дешавања је на караули "Лерински Друм" у Македонији (караула близу села Лерин на око 20 км од Битоле) на Југословенској - Грчкој граници....сликано је око Фебруара 1986 године...
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Фотоапарат: Ломо СМЕНА 8М - (апарат сам крио на тавану од свињца, тамо је био сугуран јер смраду ретко ко прилази)
Филм: Црно-Бeли OR/WO од 21 DIN-a
Ручни светломер: Лењинград 4
среда, 03 февраля 2010
