a woman naked to the waist,
moist with palm oil and sweat, a woman of some virtue
and wild breasts, her limbs excellent, unbruised and chaste.
—Poetry, October 1962
At Lambda Literary, Jameson Fitzpatrick talks about Anne Sexton, “a poet beautiful enough to be a model…the very model of a modern model-poet.”
It’s a little Walden.
Anne Sexton, “You All Know the Story of the Other Woman” (via factorypoems)
She is private in her breathbed
as his body takes off and flies,
flies straight as an arrow.
But it’s a bad translation.
Daylight is nobody’s friend.
God comes in like a landlord
and flashes on his brassy lamp.
Now she is just so-so.
He puts his bones back on,
turning the clock back an hour.
She knows flesh, that skin balloon,
the unbound limbs, the boards,
the roof, the removable roof.
She is his selection, part time.
You know the story too! Look,
when it is over he places her,
like a phone, back on the hook.
What Mad Men Missed: the Real Jaguar Ads of the 1960s and 70s. http://nyr.kr/LQGizx
Zhang Huan - Ash Head, 2007
“Constructed from incense ash collected from Shanghai temples, this medium has multiple significations: it is the substance of prayers, the dust of death and rebirth, the allegorical weight of spirits. Emitting an overwhelming scent throughout the gallery space this piece recycles the hopes and wishes of others…”
Dollar Sign Street Lines. Designer-artist Sebastian Errazuriz unveils his latest project, transforming street lines into dollar signs by simply painting a white letter S across each line. Says Errazuriz, “The goal is to express the fear and impotence that people are currently experiencing while seeing the growing greed that is transforming the way we live.”
reminiscing about shel silverstein…
i loved his poetry when i was little, and i still do.
The teardrop of a crying ant would be your swimming pool.
A crumb of cake would be a feast
And last you seven days at least,
A flea would be a frightening beast
If you were one inch tall.
If you were only one inch tall, you’d walk beneath the door,
And it would take about a month to get down to the store.
A bit of fluff would be your bed,
You’d swing upon a spider’s thread,
And wear a thimble on your head
If you were one inch tall.
You’d surf across the kitchen sink upon a stick of gum.
You couldn’t hug your mama, you’d just have to hug her thumb.
You’d run from people’s feet in fright,
To move a pen would take all night,
(This poem took fourteen years to write—
‘Cause I’m just one inch tall).
(Source: famouspoetsandpoems.com)
Alice Austen, Smokers 1891.
When Deputy Photo Editor Paul Moakley isn’t at the TIME office, he’s working as the caretaker and curator of the Alice Austen House in Staten Island. Alice Austen was one of America’s earliest and most prolific female photographers — and now Alice, her legacy, and her home needs your vote.
Here’s how you can help preserve an important part of the history of photography:
1. Go to http://www.PartnersInPreservation.org/
2. Find Alice Austen, which you do by clicking “A - Z”
3. VOTE.
4. Log in with your facebook account. Confirm the Vote.
(via life)
