infradreaming

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wild horses crossing a river in iran, eydi heydari

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Cai Guo-Qiang: 'Sky Ladder' (2015)

The artist created a 500 meter (1,650 foot) flaming ladder that took him 21 years to realize. The artwork was a gift to his grandmother who turned 100 years old, and to the rest of his family and hometown of Quanzhou, China.

[infradreaming]

Scheherazade

by Richard Siken

Tell me about the dream where we pull the bodies out of the lake                                       and dress them in warm clothes again.          How it was late, and no one could sleep, the horses running until they forget that they are horses.                    It’s not like a tree where the roots have to end somewhere,          it’s more like a song on a policeman’s radio,                  how we rolled up the carpet so we could dance, and the days were bright red, and every time we kissed there was another apple                                                              to slice into pieces. Look at the light through the windowpane. That means it’s noon, that means          we’re inconsolable.                                Tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us. These, our bodies, possessed by light.                                                                 Tell me we’ll never get used to it.

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Self-Portrait Against Red Wallpaper

by Richard Siken

Close the blinds and kill the birds, I surrender my desire for a logical culmination. I surrender my desire to be healed. The blurriness of being alive. Take it or leave it, and for the most part you take it. Not just the idea of it but the ramifications of it. People love to hate themselves, avoiding the necessary recalibrations. Shame comes from vanity. Shame means you’re guilty, like the rest of us, but you think you’re better than we are. Maybe you are. What would a better me paint? There is no new me, there is no old me, there’s just me, the same me, the whole time. Vanity, vanity, forcing your will on the world. Don’t try to make a stronger wind, you’ll wear yourself out. Build a better sail. You want to solve something? Get out of your own way. What’s the difference between me and the world? Compartmentalization. The world doesn’t know what to do with my love. Because it isn’t used to being loved. It’s a framework problem. Disheartening? Obviously. I hope it’s love. I’m trying really hard to make it love. I said no more severity. I said it severely and slept through all my appointments. I clawed my way into the light but the light is just as scary. I’d rather quit. I’d rather be sad. It’s too much work. Admirable? Not really. I hate my friends. And when I hate my friends I’ve failed myself, failed to share my compassion. I shine a light on them of my own making: septic, ugly, the wrong yellow. I mean, maybe it’s better if my opponent wins.

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Sharon Olds, from "Little Things"; Strike Sparks: Selected Poems, 1980-2002

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Ghost sculpture in the castle of Vezio, Italy.

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Takato Yamamoto: Chilling Loneliness in the Dead of Night (2020)

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surrender

[ID: art showing pale red paint that has bloomed and bled across the page. Written around it is hand-written text reading “I surrender my desire to be healed. - Richard Siken.” End ID.]

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pornography by richard siken, in the diagram

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Richard Siken, Boot Theory // Frank Bidart, The War of Vaslav Nijinsky // astralcorbozo on TikTok // Mary Herbert, A Long Time in the Desert // Dan Deacon, When I Was Done Dying

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richard siken, in pithead chapel

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Shige Hasegawa: 'Hana' Table (2009)

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So much translation discourse just boils down to monolinguals not understanding that "coolness" doesn't translate across languages, and you need to re-add it manually on the other end.

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Jeremy Miranda

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Emily Wilson, in conversation on her translation of The Iliad with Madeline Miller (x)

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Fireflies photograph in trees with long time exposure.