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A poem for a vengeful August

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The National Conservatory, a love poem for the end of the night

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From Lucille Clifton's book, How to Carry Water. (BOA editions, 2021).

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a belated July poem

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My first poem on here, I think there will be more to come.

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Meeting The Man: James Baldwin in Paris

(via Mubi)

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My dad was eating pistachios so I reached my hand out and he just started peeling them and giving them to me. Then suddenly went "I really hope you find someone who loves you a lot" and I went "enough to peel my pistachios for me?" And he laughed and said "yeah exactly" before carrying on giving me more

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And My Father's Love Was Nothing Next To God's Will by Amatullah Bourdon

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thinking about how orpheus turning to look back at eurydice isn’t a sign of mortal frailness but a sign of love

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James Baldwin will forever have the power to wreck me with the most beautiful, profound and insightful sentence that I want to etch into my eyelids and throat for all time

Meeting the Man: James Baldwin in Paris, 1970 (dir. Terence Dixon)

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Love? What does a crook know about love?

THE HANDMAIDEN (2016) dir. Park Chan-wook

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the meaning of life is summed up in the story elmer bendiner tells about how when he was a pilot the second world war, his plane was hit with a barrage of anti-aircraft fire from the nazi forces but the crew survived. and how everyone was saying it was a miracle until they investigated the shells that got in the fuselage and found there was no explosive charges in any of them. in one they found a note scribbled in czech, written by the person who had been forced to manufacture the shells, and it just said ‘this is all we can do for you now’.

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when w. h. auden said “evil is unspectacular and always human” and ursula k. leguin said “this is the great treason of the artist: a refusal to admit the banality of evil and the terrible boredom of pain”

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i bet on crazy frogs

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“ANTIGONE: The fields were wet. They were waiting for something to happen. The whole world was breathless, waiting. I can’t tell you what a roaring noise I seemed to make alone on the road. It bothered me that whatever was waiting, wasn’t waiting for me.”

— Antigone, Jean Anouilh (trans Lewis Galantiere)

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Euvelgunnerheem, Full moon  -   Eline Brontsema , 2020.

Dutch, b. 1988-

Woodcut, 31.9 x 28.9 cm