varia

Pictured above, an ink wash drawing by Henri Michaux (born 24...

Fri, 24 May 2013 23:49:00 -0400

Pictured above, an ink wash drawing by Henri Michaux (born 24 May, 1899; died 19 October, 1984)

A poem by Michaux:

Le malheur, mon grand laboureur,

Le Malheur, assois-toi,

Repose-toi,

Reposons nous un peu toi et moi,

Repose,

Tu me trouves, tu m’éprouves, tu me le prouves.

Je suis ta ruine.

Mon grand théâtre, mon havre, mon âtre,

Ma cave d’or,

Mon avenir, ma vraie mère, mon horizon.

Dans ta lumière, dans ton ampleur, dans mon horreur,

Je m’abandonne.

Calamity, my great laborer,

Sit down, Calamity,

Take it easy,

Let’s take it easy for a minute, both of us,

Easy.

You find me, you get the hang of me, you try me out,

I’m the ruin of you.

My big theater, my harbor, my hearth,

My golden cave,

My future, my real mother, my horizon,

In your light, in your great spaces, in your horror,

I let myself go.

(translated by W. S. Merwin)

Other poems by Michaux here and here

Pictured above, migrating tree swallows (photograph by Biotope,...

Thu, 23 May 2013 23:31:00 -0400

Pictured above, migrating tree swallows (photograph by Biotope, Norway)

A poem by MIchel Deguy (born 23 May, 1930):

Alluvion des cris Minerai d’hirondelles

Dans le delta du vent les plissements du vent

La trembleraie bleuit

Le pouls de l’étang bat

Toutes les trois heures un poème

Devient nouveau puis se ternit

Sous la lecture Recroît dans le silence

Alluvium of cries Ore of swallows

In the delta of wind the foldings of wind

The aspen grove turns blue

The pond’s pulse beats

Every three hours a poem

Becomes new then tarnishes

Under the reading Grows again in the silence

(translated by Clayton Eshleman)

Pictured above, a photograph from the Theaters series by Hiroshi...

Thu, 23 May 2013 22:50:00 -0400

Pictured above, a photograph from the Theaters series by Hiroshi Sugimoto

From Evening Land (Aftonland), by Pär Lagerkvist (born 23 May 1891; died 11 July 1974)

All will become forgotten. All human fates

walk down the unlit stairs of oblivion

to go out into the final darkness.

All lights will be quenched. The tragedy end;

the footlights be put out, all the stars of heaven

that witnesses the drama’s cruel action,

meaningless and paltry in its evil.

The stage and its shabby back-stage both empty,

and the little poison dagger the characters have used

against each other thrown away onto the rubbish heap.

Oblivion, silence. Nothing to remember

No one who can remember.

Emptiness.

Was that all?

That we do not know.

(translated from the Swedish by W. H. Auden and Leif Sjöberg)

The Italian Terrrace, a watercolor made around 1765 by Hubert...

Wed, 22 May 2013 23:59:00 -0400

The Italian Terrrace, a watercolor made around 1765 by Hubert Robert (born 22 May 1733; died 15 April 1808)

Pictured above, an untitled photograph from the late 1970s by...

Tue, 21 May 2013 23:59:00 -0400

Pictured above, an untitled photograph from the late 1970s by Francesca Woodman (1958-1981)

A poem by Robert Creeley (born 21 May 1926; died 30 March 2005)…

Echoes

Step through the mirror,

faint with the old desire.

Want it again,

never mind who’s the friend.

Say yes to the wasted

empty places. The guesses

were as good as any.

No mistakes.

A 1657 chalk drawing of a goat by Jacob Jordaens (born 19...

Sun, 19 May 2013 23:35:56 -0400

A 1657 chalk drawing of a goat by Jacob Jordaens (born 19 May 1593; died 18 October 1678); in the collection of the Yale University Art Gallery, New Haven

The Pas de deux from Act II of Adolphe Adam’s 1841 ballet...

Sat, 18 May 2013 23:11:44 -0400

The Pas de deux from Act II of Adolphe Adam’s 1841 ballet Giselle, performed here by Rudof Nureyev (1938-1993) and Margot Fonteyn (born 18 May 1919; died 21 February 1991)

Recorded in the BBC studios, 1962

The Garden State Parkway, 1960 ‘New Jersey Journey’,...

Sat, 18 May 2013 22:28:38 -0400

The Garden State Parkway, 1960

‘New Jersey Journey’, a poem by W. G. Sebald (born 18 May 1944; died 14 December 2001)

Spent two hours at the end of December
on the Garden State Highway
In the ancient Ford’s trunk
nothing but my heart grown
heavier year by year

A protracted catastrophe:
the constant river of traffic
the endless business of overtaking
vicious eye-contact
with total strangers
in the adjacent lane

Driven by yearning
for its prehistoric brothers
a Jumbo climbs out of Newark
airport over marshes and lagoons
a giant smoking
mountain of rubbish
and the countless lights
of the refineries

Mile after mile of stunted trees
telegraph poles fields of blueberries
a Siberian countryside
colonized then run to seed
with moribund supermarkets
abandoned poultry farms
haunted by millions and millions
of breakfast eggs
harboring the undeciphered sighs
of an entire nation

Near the retirement town of Lakehurst
a safari park soundless
under its coat of frost
cemeteries as spacious
as the world war killing fields
funeral parlours dubious
antique shops and a bus station
for last trips
to Atlantic City

In the twilight of the settlement itself
ten square miles of faintly
luminous bungalows
lawns dwarf-conifers
Christmas decorations
Santa Rudolph the Reindeer
and in front of one of the houses
my uncle feeding the songbirds

Drinking schnapps
he later tells me
of the conquest of New York
Drinking schnapps I consider
the ramifications of our calamity
and the meaning of the picture
that shows him, my uncle
as a tinsmith’s assistant in ’23
on the new copper roof
of the Augsburg synagogue
those were the days

Next day we drive out to the coast
Seaside Park Avenue at noon
the boardwalks deserted
boarded-up diners
Alpine-style summerhouses
with circulating draughts
yachts rattling in the cold
the sub-urban migration of dunes

With the brown house-high waves
in the background my uncle
leaning forward into the wind
snapped me again
with his Polaroid

Do we really die
only once

(translated from the German by Iain Galbraith)

Seaweed, a photograph made in the 1940s by Aaron Siskind...

Fri, 17 May 2013 23:59:00 -0400

Seaweed, a photograph made in the 1940s by Aaron Siskind (1903-1991)

From constant change figures, a 2006 poem by Lyn Hejinian (born 17 May, 1941)

constant change figures

the time we sense

passing on its effect

surpassing things we’ve known before

since memory

of many things is called

experience

but what of what

we call nature’s picture

surpassing things we call

since memory

we call nature’s picture

surpassing things we’ve known before

constant change figures

experience

passing on its effect

but what of what

constant change figures

since memory

of many things is called

the time we sense

called nature’s picture

but what of what

in the time we sense

surpassing things we’ve known before

passing on its effect

is experience

Pictured above, Adrienne Rich (born 16 May 1929; died 27 March...

Thu, 16 May 2013 23:43:00 -0400

Pictured above, Adrienne Rich (born 16 May 1929; died 27 March 2012), in a 1987 photograph for The New York Times

A poem by Adrienne Rich:

Tonight No Poetry Will Serve
May 26, 2008

Saw you walking barefoot
taking a long look
at the new moon’s eyelid

later spread
sleep-fallen, naked in your dark hair
asleep but not oblivious
of the unslept unsleeping
elsewhere

Tonight I think
no poetry
will serve

Syntax of rendition:

verb pilots the plane
adverb modifies action

verb force-feeds noun
submerges the subject
noun is choking
verb disgraced goes on doing

there are adjectives up for sale

now diagram the sentence

Si dolce è’l tormento, from the Ninth Book of Madrigals...

Wed, 15 May 2013 23:40:00 -0400

Si dolce è’l tormento, from the Ninth Book of Madrigals (published 1651) composed by Claudio Monteverdi (baptised 15 May 1567; died 29 November 1643)

‘So sweet is the torment in my heart…’

Performers: Guillemette Laurens, mezzo-soprano; Michel Godard, serpent; Fanny Paccoud, violin; Steve Swallow, bass; and Bruno Helstroffer, theorbo

Available from Carpe Diem Records

Reflection (What Does Your Soul Look Like), a 1997 print by...

Wed, 15 May 2013 17:33:00 -0400

Reflection (What Does Your Soul Look Like), a 1997 print by Peter Doig; in the collection of the Tate Gallery, London

A poem by Ulrike Almut Sandig (born 15 May 1979)…

wenn du nicht da bist, bist du nirgends zu sehen.
mein gesicht ist gewaschen + in binden gewickelt
damit nicht friert vor dem winter. dein bild ist
mit absicht im album verblättert, auch der tisch
gehört einem anderen: geräumt ist der körperaltar.
sieh her: es wandert quer über mein alterndes haar
ein blinder, bringt leichtes + wechselnden wind

when you’re not here, you’re nowhere to be seen.
my face is washed + wrapped in clothes so
that nothing freezes in winter. your photo is
intentionally misplaced in the album, the table also
belongs to someone else: the body altar is clear.
behold: someone blind travels straight through my
aging hair and brings light + shifting wind

(translated by Bradley Schmidt)

Sidney Bechet (born 14 May 1897; died 14 May 1959), on soprano...

Tue, 14 May 2013 23:55:15 -0400

Sidney Bechet (born 14 May 1897; died 14 May 1959), on soprano saxophone, playing his composition ‘Les Oignons,’ in Paris, 1952, with Claude Luter on clarinet

Hollywells Park, Ipswich, an oil painting made between 1748 and...

Tue, 14 May 2013 23:34:04 -0400

Hollywells Park, Ipswich, an oil painting made between 1748 and 1750 by Thomas Gainsborough (baptised 14 May 1727; died 2 August 1788); now in the collection of Christchurch Mansion, Ipswich

Still Life with Tanora, a 1913 papier collé work by Georges...

Mon, 13 May 2013 20:32:58 -0400

Still Life with Tanora, a 1913 papier collé work by Georges Braque (born 13 May 1882; died 31 August 1963); in the collection of the Museum of Modern Art, New York

Pregnant Woman with Swan (Schwangere und Schwan), a work of oil...

Sun, 12 May 2013 19:35:35 -0400

Pregnant Woman with Swan (Schwangere und Schwan), a work of oil and watercolour on paper, made in 1959 by Joseph Beuys (born 12 May 1921; died 23 January 1986); in the collection of the National Galleries of Scotland, Edinburgh

Envoi, a 1990 composition for piano, four hands, by Milton...

Fri, 10 May 2013 14:51:44 -0400

Envoi, a 1990 composition for piano, four hands, by Milton Babbitt (born 10 May, 1916; died 29 January, 2011); performed by Steven Beck and Zachary Bernstein; recorded live at the CUNY Graduate Center’s Milton Babbitt Retrospective, 25 May 2012.

Pictured above, Sailing Ship (Segelschiff), an 1815 painting by...

Thu, 09 May 2013 14:54:18 -0400

Pictured above, Sailing Ship (Segelschiff), an 1815 painting by Caspar David Friedrich (1774-1840); in the Kunstsammlungen Chemnitz, Germany

On his 75th birthday, here is a poem by Charles Simic (born 9 May 1938):

Ghost Ship

My soul is a ghost ship
Set adrift on the seas of eternity.
A battered old wreck
Even the rats have abandoned,
Its one remaining mast
Like a cross on a pauper’s grave

I hold on to like a drunk,
Counting the little white caps
As they chase each other
Like butterflies downwind
With no land in sight
And the sky above them leaden.

At nightfall, I’ll take a stroll
Peeking into each porthole,
Searching for my cabin
While the ship pitches and rolls,
The glasses tinkle in the bar
And the potted palms sway.

I’ll lean over a pool table,
Or lie sleepless in my berth
Listening to my heart
As we lurch deeper into dark
Cresting another huge wave
That wants to drown us in.

Pictured above, WInter Sunrise, Sierra Nevada from Lone Pine,...

Wed, 08 May 2013 23:52:57 -0400

Pictured above, WInter Sunrise, Sierra Nevada from Lone Pine, California, a 1944 photograph by Ansel Adams (1902-1984)

On his 83rd birthday, here is a poem by Gary Snyder (born 8 May, 1930):

Milton by Firelight

Piute Creek, August 1955

“O hell, what do mine eyes
          with grief behold?”
Working with an old
Singlejack miner, who can sense
The vein and cleavage
In the very guts of rock, can
Blast granite, build
Switchbacks that last for years
Under the beat of snow, thaw, mule-hooves.
What use, Milton, a silly story
Of our lost general parents,
          eaters of fruit?

The Indian, the chainsaw boy,
And a string of six mules
Came riding down to camp
Hungry for tomatoes and green apples.
Sleeping in saddle-blankets
Under a bright night-sky
Han River slantwise by morning.
Jays squall
Coffee boils

In ten thousand years the Sierras
Will be dry and dead, home of the scorpion.
Ice-scratched slabs and bent trees.
No paradise, no fall,
Only the weathering land
The wheeling sky,
Man, with his Satan
Scouring the chaos of the mind.
Oh Hell!

Fire down
Too dark to read, miles from a road
The bell-mare clangs in the meadow
That packed dirt for a fill-in
Scrambling through loose rocks
On an old trail
All of a summer’s day.

Fishes’ Night-Song (Fisches Nachtgesang), a poem by...

Mon, 06 May 2013 12:39:00 -0400

Fishes’ Night-Song (Fisches Nachtgesang), a poem by Christian Morgenstern (born 6 May 1871; died 31 March, 1914)