POETRY

UTOPIAN I see the world getting smaller and smaller, untill it finally fades the taste of red wine still in my mouth, soothing me knowing in the back of my mind this place isn’t been made for you and me’. My arm hanging out the window, my fingers playing with the wind, fantasizing how it would be, to live this …

DIGITS I am struggling with digits, digits juggle in my head. Digits tumble and they jumble on the paper I just read, every time I try to capture, such a bouncing numeral, it teases me by dissipating, becoming quite undoable. Give me a bucket filled with letters, I make sense of everything I arrange and rearrange, and I make the …

VENICE > There is a glorious City in the Sea. The Sea is in the broad, the narrow streets, ebbing and flowing; and the salt sea-weed clings to the marble of her palaces. No track of men, no footsteps to and fro, lead to her gates. The path lies o’er the Sea, invisible; and from the land we went, as …

ON THE EXTINCTION OF THE VENETIAN REPUBLIC > Once did She hold the gorgeous east in fee; and was the safeguard of the west: the worth of Venice did not fall below her birth, Venice, the eldest Child of Liberty. She was a maiden City, bright and free; no guile seduced, no force could violate; and, when she took unto …

Despite making few forays beyond the arts, his versatility in the disciplines he took up was of such a high order. Michelangelo Buonarroti (1475/1564) was an Italian Renaissance painter, but also sculptor, architect, poet, and engineer. He is considered a contender for the title of the archetypal Renaissance man, along with his rival and fellow Leonardo da Vinci. CELESTIAL LOVE …

BLACK RIDERS CAME FROM THE SEA > Black riders came from the sea. There was clang and clang of spear and shield, and clash and clash of hoof and heel, wild shouts and the wave of hair, in the rush upon the wind. Thus the ride of sin. http://www.amazon.com/Complete-Poems-Stephen-Crane/dp/0801491304

DEATH > Because I could not stop for Death, he kindly stopped for me. The carriage held but just ourselves, and Immortality. We slowly drove, he knew no haste, and I had put away my labor, and my leisure too, for his civility. We passed the school, where children strove at recess, in the ring. We passed the fields of …

ONE ART > The art of losing isn’t hard to master. So many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster. Lose something every day. Accept the fluster of lost door keys, the hour badly spent. The art of losing isn’t hard to master. Then practice losing farther, losing faster: places, and names, …

DADDY – You do not do, you do not do any more, black shoe in which I have lived like a foot for thirty years, poor and white, barely daring to breathe or Achoo. Daddy, I have had to kill you. You died before I had time. Marble-heavy, a bag full of God, ghastly statue with one gray toe, big …

THE PEOPLE, YES – The people yes, the people will live on. The learning and blundering people will live on. They will be tricked and sold and again sold, and go back to the nourishing earth for rootholds, the people so peculiar in renewal and comeback, you can’t laugh off their capacity to take it. The mammoth rests between his …