9937: photo by Petros Kotzabasis, 27 May 2018
9530: photo by Petros Kotzabasis, 15 May 2018
679 00323: photo by Sotiris Lamprou, 31 May 2018
679 00323: photo by Sotiris Lamprou, 31 May 2018
679 00323: photo by Sotiris Lamprou, 31 May 2018
Your life as a lens, searching
within that unending strangeness
that is the world -
a wave that crests and breaks
back - dispersal
an everyday falling apart
refraction
is light
transmission
what you were breaks
down and scatters
on the wind
DSC05892: photo by Sotiris Lamprou, 15 May 2018
DSC05892: photo by Sotiris Lamprou, 15 May 2018
DSC05892: photo by Sotiris Lamprou, 15 May 2018
DSC09698: photo by Sotiris Lamprou, 29 May 2018
Joseph Ceravolo: Drunk on the Brain
This is the top.
All around in a day
of oxygen, real,
a room overlooking.
Total light
and promise
to understand your
pains and suffering
in the dark room
What is a wife? A woman.
A hand. A leg.
With Egyptian
odors, lying on the bed.
Drunk, by soap
on your hands.
Drunk on the brain.
It might be above the earth.
Joseph Ceravolo (1934-1988): Drunk on the Brain, from Millenium Dust (1982)
Débil fortaleza: photo by Leila Forés, 4 May 2018
Cracow, 2018: photo by Bastex - Unknown Street Photographer, 9 May 2018
Cracow, 2018: photo by Bastex - Unknown Street Photographer, 9 May 2018
Cracow, 2018: photo by Bastex - Unknown Street Photographer, 9 May 2018
2 comments:
that unending strangeness
that is the world
We can all feel that fall from the crest now, everything unstitching itself. Beautiful poem, Tom
Thank you, Duncan. I suspect it's in part an effect of the relative formality / severity of b&w that we are permitted to see something a bit closer to "things as they are", w/o the comforts of familiarity.
Of course the breaking back of the wave - of light, of water, of anything that has wave structure - is always reflected (as v refracted) in the structure of any verse that observes even the faintest memory of a left hand margin.
A wave is meant to lose itself (fall apart), then regather itself, to rise up again. Perhaps this unstitching we feel - felt here as well - is that of a new sort of dreamt physics, inert rather than dynamic, designed to maintain crests forever, a physics of impossible perfection, selfdriving cars and so on, conceptual, impossible, safe, clean, infinitely pragmatic in that way the deadest of "market-driven" concepts always seem to have, anymore.
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