Two poems involving insects.

 

Adam Zagajewski, tr. Lillian Vallee

 

Jenny Offill

 

Novembergruppe

 

Novembergruppe

That with each successive defeat there is an approach towards the final mutation, and that man only is in that he searches to be, plans to be, thumbing through words and modes of behavior and joy sprinkled with blood and other rhetorical pieces like this one. 

The Disorder of the Dining Table - Sarah Wigglesworth

 

from Local Virgin of Impression

Ellen Boyette

via Dead Mall Press

 J'ai besoin de m'encanailler un peu

Grief - Theodor Kittelsen

 

MoJT

 We see the subtlest of all forces obeying even the most capricious behests of the human mind.

excerpt from According to the Plat Thereof

 Alex Tretbar

Mary Ann Samyn

God in the World 

Late afternoon, sleepy sky, the grief a click in the jaw,
a tremor along my eyelid. 

I’ll take my father back now. Everlasting love,
my hope and my fear. 

As he lay dying, his gaze fixed.
All he wanted was nothing we had to give. 

Minutes earlier, I had been doing some silly calculation
of my own happiness. 

Then, alone with body,
as with a piece of furniture, the cold oak that once lived. 

Poetry makes a public record, for someone’s sake.
I was dumb, before and after.

Guillaume Apollinaire / Alice Notley

L'Adieu

J'ai cueilli ce brin de bruyère
L'automne est morte souviens-t'en
Nous ne nous verrons plus sur terre
Odeur du temps Brin de bruyère
Et souviens-toi que je t'attends

Goodbye

I picked this spray of heather
Autumn is dead remember
We won't ever again see each other on earth
Fragrance of time spray of heather
Remember I'm waiting for you

Piotr Jabłoński

 

Robert Warren Harrison

 

 

Shadowplaying

Debut novel, arriving spring 2027

via High Frequency Press

Anselm Croteau wants solitude. Instead, he’s caught in the blood-soaked wake of the Moodys—murderous brothers bound by generational grudges—and the Baileys, fugitive sisters bent on revenge. Violence and vendettas collide in this noir tale of survival at the edge of the desolate Nevada desert.

 

Roman Meal

Kathleen Ryan 

Sliced Bread (Golden Hour)

Fender Bender

Inkwell, Tiffany & Co., 1910.

 

Giuseppe Pietro Bagetti - The Walnut Tree in Benevento (The Witches' Sabbath), 1822

 

Jadeite Cabbage

 Carved from a single piece of jade. Estimated to be worth upwards of $100 million.

House of Fabergé Cigarette Case, 1890

 

House of Fabergé Perfume Bottle, 1890

Nephrite jade pickled cucumber, encrusted with a 72K gold ring, set with rose-cut diamonds.

Carl Julius von Leypold

 

Jared Singer

 

Amy Gerstler

 

Fabric

 

Nicola Samorì

 

The Column (Christ’s Ruff)

crucify

 

edges.

 

Inuit Knife w/ walrus ivory. Northern Canada, 1890.

Corsican Vendetta Knife. Che la mia ferita sia mortale: May my wound be fatal.

The Waning Year — Peter Sculthorpe. Water color, 1948

 

Interior with Bay Window — Suzanne Moxhay, photography. 2021

 

Food in Cinema (that I would like to try)

Cactus Jack’s fast food, Terminator 2: Judgment Day

Clemanza’s meatballs, The Godfather

Poison mushrooms, Phantom Thread

Prison Italian dinner, Goodfellas

Ironing board grilled-cheese, Benny & Joon

Dystopian noodles, Blade Runner

Jack Rabbit Slim’s Durward Kirby burger with Martin & Lewis $5 shake, Pulp Fiction

Minnie’s Haberdashery beef stew, The H8ful Eight

Gas station barbecue, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre

Alfred’s Vichyssoise, Batman Returns

Pit-stop at Aunt Meg's, Twister

Francis Bacon's Studio

Proulx

An indelible mark.

Sudden Hymn in Winter

What if, after years
of trial,
a love should come
and lay a hand upon you
and say,
this late,
your life is not a crime

— Joseph Fasano

Object Permanence

  (for John)

 

 

    We wake as if surprised the other is still there,

    each petting the sheet to be sure.

 

    How have we managed our way

    to this bed—beholden to heat like dawn

   

    indebted to light. Though we’re not so self-

    important as to think everything

   

    has led to this, everything has led to this.

    There’s a name for the animal

   

    love makes of us—named, I think,

    like rain, for the sound it makes.

 

    You are the animal after whom other animals

    are named. Until there’s none left to laugh,

  

    days will start with the same startle

    and end with caterpillars gorged on milkweed.

 

    O, how we entertain the angels

    with our brief animation. O,

 

    how I’ll miss you when we’re dead. 

    Nicole Sealey

Perpetual Care — Andrew Wyeth, 1961

Andrew Wyeth