Monday, July 27, 2015

Rain Scatters Itself


"Conversazioni," 2011, by David Benati
Rain Scatters Itself

While hiding from rain we can all become friends
with bugs Poor lightning bug clinging to my shoulder
When you get wet what happens to your body
to your light You can wait out the storm as if it were
a large creature ambling past the opening of your cave
There is no malevolence in its heart There is no heart
in its heart For weather there is no death only reincarnation
and in this way all shards of rain have been here before
and will come for us again





[Image above by David Benati]

Friday, July 24, 2015

An Optical Poem by Oskar Fischinger



Yesterday, I saw this "optical poem" (shared on Twitter by artist Ward Jenkins), and it really intrigued me. I couldn't believe it was a stop motion video, made with paper (in 1938, no less)! Oskar Fischinger seems like a very intriguing artist.

I don't know if I'd call it a poem or not, but it's very visually pleasing. When I was little, my sister and I had a lava lamp in our bedroom--it reminds me of that a bit!

Happy Friday to you, friends.

Thursday, July 23, 2015

When She Sat Down She Thought She Might Never Get Back Up

by Kindah Khalidy
When She Sat Down She Thought She Might Never Get Back Up

Because it is in the body to crave safety
and who can blame it An elbow conked
wants a steady palm A bedframe-struck toe
wants to be hugged Within one body
parts will play patient and other parts doctor
Pain is a warning that seems like a
punishment Imagine existing without it
Floating along the street like the pale sheen
of a pond at dusk Barely of nature
No dirt to slither our tendrils through


[Image above by by Kindah Khalidy]

Wednesday, July 22, 2015

"There Are Birds Here," by Jamaal May

"Spread Your Wings," by Mo Cornelisse

There Are Birds Here
By Jamaal May
 
For Detroit

There are birds here,
so many birds here
is what I was trying to say
when they said those birds were metaphors
for what is trapped
between buildings
and buildings. No.
The birds are here
to root around for bread
the girl’s hands tear
and toss like confetti. No,
I don’t mean the bread is torn like cotton,
I said confetti, and no
not the confetti
a tank can make of a building.
I mean the confetti
a boy can’t stop smiling about
and no his smile isn’t much
like a skeleton at all. And no
his neighborhood is not like a war zone.
I am trying to say
his neighborhood
is as tattered and feathered
as anything else,
as shadow pierced by sun
and light parted
by shadow-dance as anything else,
but they won’t stop saying
how lovely the ruins,
how ruined the lovely
children must be in that birdless city.
[Image above by Mo Cornelisse]
[Poem text via Poetry]

Tuesday, July 21, 2015

They Built Mazes

"Prayer, "2015, Catherine Mellinger




They Built Mazes

I walk and around me where the world
has fallen in my eye attempts to correct it
To drag the sidewalk’s edge through the rubble
or grass like a bandage for those who benefit
from flattened hard earth to walk on Just this week
I saw a building yanked up from the roots leaving
a deep hole A muddy socket The first maze was
invented was dreamsprung when enough people
saw war grinding their fine city into pebbles
and shrapnel Whole walls brought down to block
the path to a field or to market A lover’s home
swallowed up by its own grimace This is the
violence that the labyrinth slithered from
The violence and the hiding from it








[Image above by Catherine Mellinger]
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