Archive for April, 2015

Scotiabank CONTACT Photography Festival Past Picture: Photography and the Chemistry of Intention | Museum of Contemporary Canadian Art (MOCCA), Toronto

Anna Atkins, Polypodium crenatum, Norway, 1854, National Gallery of Canada, Ottawa

Scotiabank CONTACT Photography FestivalPast Picture: Photography and the Chemistry of Intention.

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ARETHA FRANKLIN Oh Me, Oh My (I’m a Fool for You) 1973 live!

*: On Poetry, #10: All of a sudden the city on fire

4. What they will say  is yours 

Is your body, are your hours, are your efforts, your own? Or does the narrow world say that the only thing left for you is your pain? It is easy to feel like your time belongs to your employers and your body to men or the family or the state but that your pain is yours entirely, that your struggle is a field you cultivate yourself, a thorny one of your-own-damn-fault. This is their other weapon: to make the opposite of what is true seem true.  But what is actually true is that in the world as it is now pain is the one thing we can be certain we are never in alone.

5. Another kind of poem  

The narrow world would have women and other people make people and care for them just to donate them as brutal, sensate, pained material of the world in this arrangement. It would ask us to gestate food for its nightmare. It would ask us to reproduce, with our love, fodder with a pain scale, then surplus, fodder, too, and only what can feel the pain exacted upon it.  But when we feed & grow & tend each other it is not to feed & grow & tend the machinery of expansionist death. There are reasonable things we can do to refuse this.  That is another kind of poem.

*: On Poetry, #10: All of a sudden the city on fire.

▶ Stage Boundary Songs – a mix by DJ Rupture, Filastine, & Nova Ruth by djrupture

▶ Stage Boundary Songs – a mix by DJ Rupture, Filastine, & Nova Ruth by djrupture.

Race and the Poetic Avant-Garde | Boston Review

Jean-Michel Basquiat. Image: thierry ehrmann

Race and the Poetic Avant-Garde | Boston Review.

Divine Magnet » Leopoldine Core

Leopoldine Core

Chair

Baltimore is the darkest place

it’s basically been fucked with

damp houses

meat in the trees

And you are the world’s most

intrepid salesman

Energy

that’s what you have

instead of Harvard.

You make me feel

like a kitten

with a wallet

with a wallet

But the sun is strange

pencil light pouring

out of a hole and

I can’t move in this house

someone’s life

is still here

the bed is warm

with it.

Why do I go on the internet

when everywhere else

is heaven?

Even the torture

of watching my hand

in the bathwater

Even the flat silver

light of Baltimore.

I came here

I thought it was free

I wanted to write poetry

God was in a car in the sky

and I shouted my arm is so weak

and he said I know

it’s like a toothpick holding a machine

and I saw his face for a minute

Satan’s bacony lips

It wasn’t God

just some confident animal

in a car

And the trees were

kind of purring

And I noticed my legs

were gone.

We’re like something

that camps out

in your home

here is the chair

here is the door

opening

the glare of light

on your tongue

heaven touches me

again

the text

is its own animal

panting

in the dark.

Divine Magnet » Leopoldine Core.

Justice Ginsburg Eviscerates The Case Against Marriage Equality In Just Five Sentences | ThinkProgress