I haven't been here much this week. I guess I've been distracted, finding it difficult to find time to wrap words around thoughts, feeling like a half-formed idea all week. But I'm happy for a long weekend and will share some links with you today instead:
- Seamus Heaney's North
- The full moon, eclipse that just passed. Perhaps I'm in the wake of it. A churn of things new and old.
- It Will Look Like a Sunset
- "Artists put down their brushes and stole my objets trouves, my staple guns and glue guns." - Simon Doonan
- Dutch Masters flowers
And a poem, by Frank O'Hara.
To Jane, Some Air
Now what we desire is space.
To turn up the thermometer and sigh.
A village had gone under the water
of her smile, and then, quickly, it froze clear
so that the village could know our whereabouts.
And had you intended it?
I found a string of pearls in the tea bags
and gave them her
with what love?
With the love of the camelopard
for the camel, for the leopard.
you never conquer desire, do you?
You turn us up and we talk to each other
and then we are truly happy as the telephone
rings and rings and buzzes and buzzes,
so is that the abyss? I talk, you talk,
he talks, she talks, it talks.
You are warm enough, aren't you?
And do you miss me truly dear, as I miss you?
I don't think I'll return to the zoo