Posts Tagged ‘ ground ’

This Photo of Farmers Contains No Farmers

This is a photo taken in Germany in 1914 by August Sander:


It’s called Young Farmers and it depicts three young men on their way to a dance in rural Germany. But as John Green explains in this video, there is so much more going on with this photo.

Source: This Photo of Farmers Contains No Farmers

Rilke – Dear Darkening Ground

Dear Darkening Ground


Dear darkening ground,
you’ve endured so patiently the walls we’ve built,
perhaps you’ll give the cities one more hour

and grant the churches and cloisters two.
And those that labor—let their work
grip them another five hours, or seven,

before you become forest again, and water, and widening wilderness
in that hour of inconceivable terror
when you take back your name
from all things.

Just give me a little more time!

I want to love the things
as no one has thought to love them,
until they’re worthy of you and real.


Rainier Maria Rilke

Book of Hours, I 61

two poems: cold sun, and day light through a glass wall & door by Donna Fleischer | Solitary Plover, Issue #20, Summer 2014

cold sun
the crow calls to
its shadow

– Donna Fleischer

day light through a glass wall & door

a vibrant old rosebush fronts
the glass, compels
June honey bees to tap
against it go   a    w    r    y

in new green grasses
a stunned German Amsel begins to
shake down its plumage

its beak opens – breathless?
its fear shit stiffens on the door sill below
the impact smudge of wingdust

softer insects may ping and
get away; or fall
into a darker ground or stop
in time

– Donna Fleischer

Solitary Plover Summer 2014 Issue #20

(cold sun was originally published in Japan, by Kō)

Histories of Lived Experience | Knowledge Ecology


Image: Edward Burtynsky

Histories of Lived Experience | Knowledge Ecology.

Rosemarie Fiore: Pyrotechnics at Priska C. Juschka Fine Art / artcritical



Rosemarie Fiore: Pyrotechnics at Priska C. Juschka Fine Art / artcritical.

Listen, my child, to the silence., a poem by Federico Garcia Lorca

Listen, my child, to the silence.
It’s an undulating silence,
a silence
that brings valleys and echoes down
and bows foreheads
to the ground.

Federico Garcia Lorca
Scott Keeney, trans