Saturday, May 1, 2010
James Lavadour
Thursday, April 29, 2010
A Birthday Poem
by Ted Kooser
Just past dawn, the sun stands
with its heavy red head
in a black stanchion of trees,
waiting for someone to come
with his bucket
for the foamy white light,
and then a long day in the pasture.
I too spend my days grazing,
feasting on every green moment
till darkness calls,
and with the others
I walk away into the night,
swinging the little tin bell
Invisible Man
However, the images are in fact genuine photographs depicting the work of clever Chinese artist Liu Bolin. The Beijing based artist has exhibited his work around the world with shows in China, Paris, the United States and elsewhere. News.com.au notes that Mr Bolin is a perfectionist who can take up to ten hours to ready himself for photographs of his performances. The UK's Telegraph also reports on Mr Bolin's art, noting:
In a series of mind-boggling pictures Liu melts into any background, almost entirely invisible in front of red phone boxes, Chinese flags and even earthquake rubble.
It means people walking by while he is carrying out his performance often have no idea he is nearby until he moves away. Liu said he wanted to show how city surroundings affected people living in them and how.
He said the inspiration behind his work was a sense of not fitting in to modern society and as a silent protest against the Government's persecution of artists.
Mr Bolin generally uses assistants who help to paint him in readiness for performances.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Oregon's New Poet Laureate
By Jeff Baker, The Oregonian
As part of the application process, Petersen was asked to submit a public project she might undertake as poet laureate. She proposed doing creative-writing workshops for teachers using "a particular strategy that revolutionized my teaching life." It involves using springboards, not writing prompts or assignments but words or phrases that can propel students into the flow of writing. "Straw for the fire," Petersen said, quoting Seattle poet Theodore Roethke.
Finish
BY PAULANN PETERSEN
I rub my shoulder
against a doorframe’s wood,
getting the feel of this creature
felled and transformed.
My fingers curve to knead blood
toward a muscle’s hurt, lotion
into an elbow roughened by neglect.
Snubbing shoes, I let bare soles
reacquaint themselves
with the wear of pavement’s grit.
Clothes serve the modest task
of long, soft friction.
Bit by bit, night by day,
I grow smoother-grained,
ready for light. Let me be
a mirror in which something else
might catch a glimpse of itself--
the burnished stone beneath
a lifetime of water, flowing.
A Sacrament
BY PAULANN PETERSEN
Become that high priest,
the bee. Drone your way
from one fragrant
temple to another, nosing
into each altar. Drink
what's divine--
and while you're there,
let some of the sacred
cling to your limbs.
Wherever you go
leave a small trail
of its golden crumbs.
In your wake
the world unfolds
its rapture, the fruit
of its blooming.
Rooms in your house
fill with that sweetness
your body both
makes and eats.
Primed
BY PAULANN PETERSEN
It was middle June
during the duration
of a month that was a wait
for each day to come,
during that summer
when I would turn teen,
when I was almost something--
way past twelve and counting.
It was the middle of day,
mid-day heat halfway
between cool and hot,
a double-handed noonday
stroke: the clock's
count of twelve
reminding me of what
I was not. Still a multiple
of two, three, four, six,
I was a mere factoring
of too many baby birthdays--
crazy to be divisible by
only myself and one.
Appetite
BY PAULANN PETERSEN
Pale gold and crumbling with crust
mottled dark, almost bronze,
pieces of honeycomb lie on a plate.
Flecked with the pale paper
of hive, their hexagonal cells
leak into the deepening pool
of amber. On your lips,
against palate, tooth and tongue,
the viscous sugar squeezes
from its chambers, sears sweetness
into your throat until you chew
pulp and wax from a blue city
of bees. Between your teeth
is the blown flower and the flower's
seed. Passport pages stamped
and turning. Death's officious hum.
Both the candle and its anther
of flame. Your own yellow hunger.
Never say you can't take
this world into your mouth.
Eyjafjallajokull
Monday, April 26, 2010
iPoem
Someone's taken a bite
from my laptop's glowing apple,
the damaged fruit of our disobedience,
There's the fatal crescent,
the dark smile
of Eve, who never dreamed of a laptop,
who, in fact, didn't even have clothes,
which was probably the nicest thing
about the Garden, I'm thinking,
as I sit here in the café
with my expensive computer,
afraid to get up even for a minute
in order to go to the bathroom
in this fallen world she invented
with a single bite
of an apple nobody, and I mean
nobody,
was going to tell her not to eat.
The Front Fell Off
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Gnome Management in the Garden
Please check out the fairy tale video about Garden Gnomes above. These scurrilous lies have been making the rounds for years and what is unbelievable is that supposedly educated people have fallen for these abhorrent rumors. I personally feel they have originated by jealous pretenders who would rather be in the exalted position of garden gnomes. These include elves, fairies, trolls and professional garden educators. Like current politicians, the Swiftian spreaders of these abominable stories use a minute thread of truth and then move into exaggeration and bombast. We Must look at the motive for these unwarranted attacks. If you look at other You Tube Videos about gnomes you will immediately see one about a large group of gnomes supposedly doing the nazi salute. But these gnomes are all grey and no self respecting gnome goes colorless especially if in the undeveloped state of being plastic. This video too is phony.
Rather the hierarchy of gnomes longs for the concrete state of being not the lowest level of plastic or china or even iron. Furthermore they love being large and colorful
and sealed. I hope you noticed in the original counterfeit video, that all the supposedly invasive gnomes would fit in the palm of your hand. What is true is that these are really house gnomes trying to get outside so that they can achieve their dream of being a garden gnome. This video is a perfect example of horticultural pseudo-science run amok. But as in current politics the marketing of these lies is brilliant because of its attention to detail and its semblance of reality. It stands the facts on end in a convincing if mendacious manner. Everyone knows that gnomes live as family and seldom show themselves alone. This video takes this normal circumstance and turns it around as if groups of gnomes trying to achieve their destiny as garden gnomes are somehow sinister and dangerous. This report is so convincing that even supposedly educated viewers have been taken in even though there is no hard evidence that the end of this supposed invasion is less than salutary. We must let the less developed gnomes live out their destiny. Let our voices ring out: "LEAVE THE GNOMES TO THEIR DESTINY".
Don of Jan&Don