Posts Tagged ‘ rhythm ’

Stranieri – Francesco Sassetto – vengodalmare

 

Natale 2014 Dovrei smettere di fumare, ho due stent piantati nel cuore e il fumo fa male e anche questo mattino di luce imprecisa, andare e tornare ogni giorno uguale stanca e fa male. Accanto una …

Source: Stranieri – Francesco Sassetto – vengodalmare

John Ashbery, from “Late Echo” | Mythology of Blue

Alone with our madness and favorite flower
We see that there really is nothing left to write about.
Or rather, it is necessary to write about the same old things
In the same way, repeating the same things over and over
For love to continue and be gradually different.

John Ashbery, from “Late Echo” + 

+Mythology of Blue : Alone with our madness and favorite flower We see….

Paul Simon- She Moves On

Bela Fleck, Zakir Hussain & Edgar Meyer – The Melody of Rhythm – Bubbles

Shed – Estrange

Understanding the Poem, by Amy King / ConnotationPress.com

ConnotationPress.com – Amy King – Poetry.

Colin Stetson ~ The End of Your Suffering / YouTube

rhythm* a haibun by Donna Fleischer / FieraLingue

rhythm*

 

Entering the elemental realm with sculptor Andy Goldsworthy — a film about his earth works.
I feel words for the first time, for something pre-verbal, semiotic — sadly, living in the man-made world is making me sick. How to live less in it? 

The sculptor says, in Rivers and Tides that the tides teach us about time. He breathes in the natural world, doesn’t use the word real, doesn’t need to.

 

I imagine a Tigris and Euphrates moon, shifting silt, menses, our deeper history, before hierarchy; remember Gaston Bachelard’s Poetics of Space — that the seashell is also nature prefiguring the human ear; to know of postmodern shaman Timothy Treadwell’s love for the brown bear, thanks to filmmaker Werner Herzog.

 

The way to feeling. The shape of it. How it takes time. Takes us to cavedepth being, past emotion. I ponder Clayton Eshleman’s Juniper Fuse and write:

 

art enlivens. if you let it into your life,

as marauder. to be at one with the mystery,

an unlonely presence in absence, of what is

loved, what lost. the paleolithic

imagination reaching for the human it will

become, for its own shadow, through art,

its will, its desire for survival.

 

 

pure love

Ofili’s elephant dung

with Madonna

 

 

 

 

 

*artist Chris Ofili, lived and worked with elephants in Thailand where he grew to know and love them.
i feel that he integrated their dung into his paintings in much the same way iconographers embellished objects of devotion with gold leaf.

 

 

 

© Donna Fleischer

from FieraLingue

“What Happens in a Poem” — Roundtable Discussion / The Philoctetes Center

There is no end of things in the heart. Let’s look and listen. ~ Ezra Pound

What Happens in a Poem — The Philoctetes Center

Donna Fleischer / rhythm

rhythm*

entering the elemental realm with sculptor andy goldsworthy — a film about his earth works. i feel words for the first time. for something pre-verbal, semiotic ­­—sadly, living in the man-made world is making me sick. how to live less in it?

 

the sculptor says, in rivers and tides that the tides teach one about time. he breathes in the natural world. doesn’t use the word real. doesn’t need to.

 

i imagine a tigris and euphrates moon. shifting silt. menses. our deeper history, before hierarchy; remember gaston bachelard’s poetics of space — that the seashell is also nature anticipating the human ear; knowing of postmodern shaman timothy treadwell’s love for the brown bear, thanks to werner herzog.

 

the way to feeling. the shape of it. how it takes time. takes us to cavedepth being. ponder clayton eshleman’s juniper fuse to write

 

art enlivens. if you let it into your life,
as marauder. to be at one with the mystery,
an unlonely presence in absence, of what is
loved, what lost. the paleolithic
imagination reaching for the human it will
become, for its own shadow, through art,
its will, its desire for survival.

 

pure love
Ofili’s elephant dung
with Madonna

 

*Artist Chris Ofili, lived and worked with elephants in Thailand where he grew to know and love them. I  feel that he integrated their dung into his paintings in much the same way iconographers embellished objects of devotion with gold leaf.

Donna Fleischer